


Awake O Sleeper

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [31]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 00:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 50,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: The more time Bucky spends with Doc Vivas, the more he realizes that it isn't just her legs he's interested in. The more time Evie spends with James Barnes, the more she realizes it isn't just his arm she can rely on. All they need is a push, and with Darcy and Natasha looking out for them, they'll get a happy ending whether they want it or not.Buckle up, buttercup.Take place 8/9/17-8/20/17 (Book ending the work: Mac Davis.)





	1. Duluth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kattabaker (katttewks)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katttewks/gifts), [biblioworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblioworm/gifts), [firedanceswaterflows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firedanceswaterflows/gifts), [Sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah/gifts), [lafemmequirit](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lafemmequirit).



> I just realized that my number of Clint & Natasha scenes was sorely lacking. Can't have that.

**August 9, 2017**

 

 

“How long has this been going on?”

Clint leaned against the wall next to Natasha. The sharp shadows cast by the gym lighting and the support structure for the upper track had them all but hidden from view. She was certain that Barnes knew she was there – had no doubt heard the almost imperceptible opening and closing of the track door when Clint entered – but he didn’t give any indication, only continued to stand over Evie’s head, spotting her.

“Define ‘this’.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Take pity, Nat. This is the first time I’ve been to the Tower for more than mission transport in months. The only gossip I get at the facility is about trainees or Vision and Wanda. I try not to even think about Vision and Wanda.”

“Wise choice.”

Down on the floor, Evie struggled to finish her last lift. Barnes took the bar from her one handed and placed it back in the cradle while she sat up. She looked tired. Sweaty and red faced but not trembling or breathing too heavily. Barnes handed her a water bottle and she drained half of it before he gestured to the mat. Evie sat down a few beats behind the soldier and began a series of situps with him.

“Laura specifically asked me to check in on the Doc. If I don’t have the meaty details she’ll get them from someone else and then I won’t get the glory. Come on, Nat, do your favorite partner a solid.” Clint pulled a tin of mints out of his pocket, offering her one. They were her favorite flavor. The tiny candies rattled in the tin and Barnes paused in his exercise, his head tipping slightly, before he continued – not even glancing up. It was an act of trust that she did not take lightly.

Natasha took one mint, savoring the sharp bite of it. “Perhaps I am already doing a solid for someone by not discussing it.”

“Okay. I didn’t want to bring this up. But...Rabat.”

“New Delhi,” she reminded him.

“Chongjin,” he countered.

“Budapest.” Natasha smothered a smile. Clint would never live down Budapest. Not that she liked to talk about it either, but he had definitely come out worse than she had. And he owed her for that one. Big. The thing with the chinchillas alone was worth more than the gossip about Evie and Barnes. That was without even mentioning the flaying.

“Hm. Well, that’s…okay.” He bit down on a mint, irritating her with the crunch. As he knew it would, just like she knew he knew. She flicked his ear, just to keep things new and interesting.

“This was the last set,” she offered, in part apology for the ear flick. In part to tease him about how much he had missed. Evie moved to leave, until Barnes made a low noise. Natasha wasn’t sure what he had said over the loud music thumping throughout the gym, but the doctor turned around and went back to the mat to stretch. Her mouth was flat and tense with irritation. Twice, Barnes reached over to correct Evie’s stance – the barest of touches and always with his metal hand.

Yasha held on just a moment longer than necessary. Natasha kept her grin to herself. Clint still noticed.

“Dammit. This is too juicy. I didn’t want to do this but, circumstances require difficult decisions.” He took a deep breath. They both watched Evie bend deeply to loosen the muscles in her calves, hamstrings, and lower back. Barnes did not look over at her. It was telling.

“Duluth.” Clint waited. Tense.

Natasha slid her eyes toward her partner. Her best friend. If she had been a more sentimental person, the type of person given to poetic language or words from the heart, she might have called him her brother. But they were closer even than that. They had been together for more years than she had spent training at the Red Room. They had saved each other’s lives countless times. Clint had saved her soul, if she had such a thing.

He had thrown down a gauntlet.

“Desperate, are you?” Natasha watched Evie wait impatiently at the doors while Barnes refilled their water bottles. She took hers and they both disappeared into the hallway. Evie, doubtless, to shower and begin her day. Yasha would shower as well and then likely go back to bed for a few hours. It was only six in the morning, far earlier than the man who had been Bucky Barnes preferred to get up. Natasha envied that he had regained that part of himself. For a moment, she wondered what vices, what silly but nearly harmless habits she might have developed in another life. There was no point in dwelling on it, not when she had such an interesting and enjoyable existence in the present. More than she ever dreamed of. And there was Clint to taunt.

“I’ll tell you,” she finally admitted. His grin was infectious, as it always had been, and she allowed hers to shine through. “One detail for every hit you land.” She strode toward the stairs, knowing Clint would follow.

“Ugh, fine. But no face strikes. Laura and I have a babysitter tomorrow night.” He paused at the edge of the mat to unlace his boots. “So, does she know yet? Is she looking at him too? On a scale of one to Hallmark movie, how much unacknowledged romantic tension are we talking here?”

“Telenovela.”

Clint whistled.


	2. Devil's Gonna Make Me A Free Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sam and Bucky together. Many of you have commented that they are brothers in everything but blood - and that definitely includes the desire to frustrate the hell out of each other.
> 
> For those of you wanting this chronologically, including deleted and stand-alone scenes, I have updated my website through Chapter 92 (Left To Our Own Devices), which brings us to February 27, 2017. How is this taking so long? :)

**August 10, 2017**

 

“How’s she doing?” Sam plopped himself into one of Barnes’ guest chairs, settling in with a wide smile despite how god awful fucking uncomfortable the damn thing was. He was certain that was why it had been picked. It seemed like something Natasha would do – chose the world’s least supportive and yet also incredibly hard chair to put visitors off-balance. If she would do it, then so would Barnes. Except his goal would be to make people want to leave as soon as possible. Sam was nothing if not willing, eager even, to disappoint Barnes. He linked his fingers behind his head and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee, as if he planned to stay all day.

His lower back was already killing him.

“Heya, Buck.” Steve followed Sam in and shut the door.

Barnes scowled and pushed back from his desk, apparently resigned to not getting any more work done that day. Barnes had been successfully avoiding talking about his strangely obvious and annoyingly adorable crush for months. Marginally successfully. Steve was a determined friend. But even when Barnes did manage to duck out of a conversation, it still clearly irritated him, which was a win in Sam’s book. That and it was normal, to tease a friend. Barnes was ready for that. It had taken over a year of therapy, and Sam still counseled him every couple of weeks or so, but Barnes was probably as recovered as he would ever be. And less psychologically damaged than anyone had the right to expect. He had come further than Sam had thought he would.

Which meant Barnes was fair game.

“How was your lunch?” Steve continued, avoiding the guest chairs to lean against the wall. _Smart man._ “Sam and I found a great deli a few blocks away. Too bad you had already eaten.”

Sam severely doubted Barnes had eaten when they messaged him. Not anything more than, like, vienna sausages and cream of wheat or something equally gross. At least he had branched out from granola bars and protein shakes. More importantly, he knew that Barnes hadn’t met him and Steve for lunch because he was up in Tony’s kitchen, ransacking party leftovers to make a plate up for Dr. Vivas, which he then left for her in her office with strict instructions to her nurse to make certain the woman ate.

There were a lot of benefits to befriending a spy. Not the least of which was the quality gossip.

Sam had not shared that information with Steve. The smug asshole had lapped him five times that morning. _Just unnecessary._ He deserved to be left in the dark. Steve was waiting for Barnes to say something – fishing for information.

Barnes wasn’t biting.

“You two need something, or just tryin’ to distract the employees?”

The office workers _were_ getting up more than usual, walking by the frosted glass walls of Barnes’ office. They always said ‘hi’ and talked to Sam when he walked through, and Steve stopped by often enough to see Barnes or Darcy that he was practically a fixture, but the two of them together was enough to make everyone pay attention and wonder if something was going on.

Plus, Sam had been bringing them all coffee once or twice a week. He may have insinuated that Barnes was paying for it but didn’t want anyone to know. Barnes had no idea why everyone was making a point now to greet him and be extra friendly when the super soldier came into the Yinsen offices.

It was great.

“Oh, I had some free time before my consult with Dr. Braithewaite,” Sam offered nonchalantly. “Thought I’d get your opinion on how your girl is doing.” He leaned forward to tap the Hulk bobble head that Darcy had decorated the desk with, and tried not to laugh at Barnes’ immediate reaction.

“She ain’t anybody’s girl,” he said in an unnaturally even voice.

“Yeah, Sam,” Steve pitched in, propping his arms over the back of the free guest chair and leaning forward with a grin, “even I know that’s not right. It’s more respectful to say lady, or woman. Not girl.”

The muscle in Barnes’ jaw jumped.

“You’re lucky Darcy is so easygoing, punk,” Barnes shook his head, then turned his consideration on Sam. “But it’s no wonder _you_ are always alone on a Saturday night. Women don’t belong to men, Wilson. They are equals.” He clucked his tongue. “That’s just wrong thinking.”

Sam held onto his smile while he winced internally. He wouldn’t have brought up _people-as-property_ , but at least Barnes wasn’t relating that to his own experience. Sam let it go, trusting that Barnes knew his own limits for joking and that he would ask for help if he needed it.

“I am lucky.” Steve was still grinning, but his face had taken on a slightly softer expression. Sam shared a look with Barnes. If there was one thing they could agree on, it was that Steve deserved Darcy. Both because she was sexy as hell and loved him – and because it was good for him to experience that kind of recklessness from the outside. “Besides,” Steve shook his head as if he had to physically remove thoughts of his girlfriend, “Sam’s not alone, Buck. He’s been seeing someone pretty regular.”

Sam stiffened, forcing his mouth not to fall open. He hadn’t said anything to Steve or anyone else about his love life. With good reason. _Be cool, be cool._ The last thing he wanted was the antebellum set interested in his dinner dates. They were bad enough on their own, but where Steve was interested, Tony would follow. And with Tony came dubious access to traffic cameras and the cash and morals to bribe servers and cab drivers for information.

“Oh, really?” Barnes looked calculating.

_Shit._

Thankfully, Friday interrupted. “Captain Rogers? Ms. Lewis has requested that you stop by her office whenever you are free. She wanted me to convey that there is ‘no rush’.”

Steve straightened quickly. “On my way, Friday.” He pointed to Sam and Barnes as he walked backward to the door, “Tomorrow morning? Run at nine? If we head over toward Sullivan, Sam, you can pick up a couple dozen rolls while Buck and I take a quick lap. One of you should see if Tony wants to join us for a late breakfast.” With that, Steve was out the door, no doubt to play tonsil hockey.

Sam attempted to divert Barnes’ attention. “So, seriously, has anything come up during your time with Vivas that Braithewaite should know about? Physically, she doing okay?”

Barnes folded his arms across his chest. “She’s fine.” His scowl was twisting into a smirk.

_Shhittt._

“More moderation? Cho noted she was worried about Vivas overtaxing herself.”

“Strength training and reduced cardio. She’s fine. How you doin’, Wilson? Any big plans this weekend?”

_And...time to cut losses._

“Nah, but hey, I better get going. I have a report to type up. You know how it goes.” Sam stood, almost crying out in relief as his spine straightened. “And,” he paused with his hand on the door, as if the thought had just occurred to him, “Cho also mentioned the endorphin thing – how running can be good for anxiety. As long as you are putting Vivas _through her paces_ , I can think of a few other activities that generate endorphins. If you remember how those go.”

Sam slid out the door before Barnes could respond, a grin on his face. _There’s nothing like getting the last word._ Darcy and Steve stepped out of her office before Sam could cross the cube farm. He was nearly home free when Barnes called out behind him.

“Hey, Darcy, did you still want to do a double date thing? Sam said he’s available.”

_Just. Shit._


	3. Of Mice and Men and Microscopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picks up where the work Mac Davis left off.

 

** August 16, 2017 **

 

 

“Jodio Christo!”

Natasha smirked. She hadn’t been trying to be stealthy, but she hadn’t been not trying either, and there was something to be said for startling Evie out of her work. She liked Evie. Liked how she treated Pepper and Darcy and how she left Tony on unstable footing – constantly unsure if he should tease or try professionalism for once. She liked the way Evie held confidences close – even under duress. She liked the way Yasha reclaimed more of himself when she was around. And the way the doctor had to try so hard not to stare at the same man’s best features. 

Natasha looked after people she liked, and Evie needed to take a break. The woman had worked hard before she was abducted, and her time with HYDRA had left her with a burning drive. Natasha could understand that. Sometimes the only way to move past something was to, quite literally, move through time and space until it was only a distant thing that happened once and could be reflected on like a black and white photograph – crisp but one-dimensional. Sometimes moving past something required drowning in the experience first. 

She had a strong preference for which approach Evie should be taking.

“I didn’t mean to surprise you,” she said by way of greeting. “I brought lunch.” While Barnes was recovering, she had taken it upon herself to watch over his charge, although she took a more hands-off approach than the Soldier. Instead of trailing her around the gym and scowling when the doctor overworked herself, Natasha staged interventions. Just that morning, she had encouraged Darcy to leave her office and track her doctor down for a chat – ending Evie’s workout before it could become too strenuous. Distraction was often so much cleaner than brute force.

“I’m not... _hrm_. Thank you.”

Nat had also noticed that without Barnes to not-so-subtly put food in her path, the doctor was losing weight again. Admittedly, Nat had purchased the first available sandwiches and bottles of water – and stolen the fruit from Tony’s workshop – but she was satisfied that her old teacher would not return to his post to find his charge under-nourished.  Natasha owed her as well. A debt for what she had done to the remnants of Red Room experiments.

Nat took a seat at a clear work table, forcing Evie to do the same or appear tremendously rude. Which she would never do. Natasha tried to imagine Steve and Evie both reaching for the last piece of pie. 

_After you._

_No, after you._

_Ladies first._

_No, no, I insist._

She reminded herself to tell Darcy about it later.  She would laugh. And probably embellish to make the joke better.

The doctor sat, and while she unwrapped her food, Natasha scanned the paper thin computer display the other woman had been working at, as well as the rolling white board. Nat recognized several variations of a molecular compound, an open patient history, and notes regarding genetic mutation. The last was squeezed into a cramped corner of the board, as if it was trying to be forgotten.

_She is still avoiding it._

Natasha had spoken at length with Tony regarding the HYDRA’s belief that Evie was working on Bruce’s serum research. They had both delved into the information on the Guest House provided by Coulson’s team, and Tony had – surprisingly –  given in to Natasha’s insistence that anything else from the base or Evie’s debrief was Widow business and not necessary to share with the rest of the team. However, it had been long enough, and Evie needed to face her experience. 

_Yasha and Steve need to know what she saved them from._

Natasha waited until the doctor had swallowed a few bites and filled her mouth again before speaking.

“We will all be here for the meeting at two.”

There was a light cough, and then brown eyes met her gaze. “What meeting? Who’s we?”

“Steve, Barnes, and I.” She bit into her own sandwich, savoring the crunch of apple and bite of spicy mustard. “To discuss _Scion_.”

“Is there...” Evie paused for a moment, setting down her food. She looked uncomfortable, her mouth twisting in a way that Natasha interpreted as distaste. “Ja- Sergeant Barnes had questions when you told him?”

“No.” She took another bite and waited pointedly until Evie did the same. “I haven’t told him yet. Or anyone else,” she continued over Evie’s wide eyes and choking inhale. “I felt it was best to come from you, since you understand the serum and Sodhi’s intentions better than I ever could.”

“I highly doubt that,” Evie muttered. She took a sip of water, and then another to clear her throat. “There is very little I could add to the interview you did. Can’t you just show them the recording?”

“They will have questions. You are right about that.” The other woman looked paler, and Natasha had a moment where she wished that she could offer sympathy. A kind word and an easy way out. Unfortunately, that was not what Evie needed. And _Scion_ was too important, too horrific, to be kept a secret any longer from the men it would have devastated. Carefully she chose her words, trying to walk the line between bolstering comfort and firm reality. “You are the only one who can assure them that this can’t happen again. They deserve that certainty, Evie. I’ve verified as much about Sodhi and _Scion_ as I can. I need the team now. We need to go after the man responsible. I can’t do that without you.”

“I...” Evie stared down at her half-eaten sandwich, then shoved it away. “Two o’clock,” she confirmed, then stepped up to her whiteboard again, back stiff and left hand tapping against her thigh.

Natasha understood that her work was done, for the time being. She gathered up her own food and water and left without saying goodbye.

_Better to drown and come out the other side quickly, than to suffer in silence._ _Bez usiliy vy dazhe ne mozhete vytashchit' rybu iz pruda._

 

 

* _Bez usiliy vy dazhe ne mozhete vytashchit' rybu iz pruda. - Without effort, you can’t even pull a fish from the pond._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the Bucky/Evie falling in love scene that Firedanceswaterflows, sarah, kattabaker, lafemmequirit, and biblioworm requested. A few more chapters of set up to go. These are two complicated people, and I always find that it is easier to believe a deep, lasting love if there is a strong foundation for it. Stick with me, we'll get there.


	4. Thanksgivings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is A LOT of technical jargon regarding Project Scion and elaborating on some details that were revealed in Accommodations. I blame those of you who are always asking specific questions, like "why is Bucky's arm so scarred if he has increased healing". Now you, like Paul Harvey, know the rest of the story.

** August 16, 2017 **

 

Still half asleep and wishing Natalia hadn’t shown up at his apartment, Barnes stepped into the shower and reached for shampoo. If it had been Steve at the door, he would have ignored him. The punk knew exactly how he felt about sleeping in, and that he still wasn’t at one hundred percent after the tranquilizers. Nata lia had never known him when he  worked odd jobs for local draftsman and pulled double shifts at the docks.  She hadn’t known the man who  used rare evenings off to browbeat Steve into going dancing with any girls Barnes could sweet talk, so  Nat asha couldn’t have any idea how much he loved to sleep. His nights now were spent in patrols and security checks, but any time before nine in the morning was sacred. 

It was now afternoon, sure, but the principle was still the same.

There was also a little part of him which still whispered that Natalia should not see any weakness. He needed to be an example for his best  _unchenik_ . And to never offer the opportunity for a knife in his spine.

He took his time. Because she had woken him for a meeting but wouldn’t say about what, and because the hot water loosened all the stiff muscles that had grown unused to so long without activity.  _Seven_ _decades_ _in a Box_ , he thought wryly,  _but a_ _few years out_ _and suddenly I can’t go a few days without a run._ He shaved and dressed in cargo pants and an undershirt, then began securing his weapons. Natalia had assured him they were not leaving the upper levels of the Tower, so he contented himself with a Sig Sauer P220 at the small of his back. And a COP 357 Derringer at his right ankle. And two throwing knives on his left. And his SOG on his left hip. 

Unannounced meetings made him cautious.

He layered a couple of thermal shirts to help conceal the bulk of his Sig holster and pulled on his boots before leaving his room. Natalia was waiting for him with a thermal mug of coffee. He sipped, holding eye contact. It was a challenge to them both. Him, to trust that she wouldn’t drug or poison him. Her, that he wouldn’t throw the steaming liquid in her face and attack. Meal time surprise tactical exercises had been a favored training technique  in the Red Room . More than one potential widow had been burned or stabbed with a fork before she forcibly left the program.

“Too much sugar,” he commented, even though it was the perfect amount.

“Apologies,” she replied, even though she knew it was the perfect amount.

Barnes followed her to the elevator. She asked Friday to take them to the same floor as Stark’s workshop. Barnes frowned. He and Tony had been on a better footing since Sweden, but that didn’t mean he went out of his way to get into the man’s personal space. He glanced over at Natasha. She was texting on her phone, completely ignoring him. If she wasn’t going to share, he wasn’t going to ask.

Mild curiosity became concern when the doors opened and Natalia did not turn right for Stark’s workshop, but instead went left. Banner had been missing for over a year, but his lab was still kept pristine and exactly the way he had left it – except for a small workstation near the back. Barnes was familiar with the room and the desk. It was where Evelyn did research for Pepper and Darcy. She had an office on one of the lower floors for her civilian patients, but information about Avengers and associated individuals was restricted to floors and computers that Friday secure d aggressively . He had been there before, to bring her food or escort her to her clinic, but this time he felt uneasy.

_Natalia knows._ Of course she knew, fucking Sam Wilson knew. If Natalia didn’t figure out within  a  week  of  Barnes  first meeting Evelyn that he was interested, then she wouldn’t be the Black Widow. That did not, however, mean he appreciated her orchestrating some... _thing_ with them. 

“Natasha,” he began in a warning tone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Steve interrupted. The door to the stairs swung shut behind him. His blonde hair was sticking up in the back and there was a starburst pattern of wrinkles on one side of his shirt.

“How’s Darcy today?” Natasha asked.

“She’s-” Steve stopped, frowned, rolled his eyes and smoothed his hair. Barnes snorted. “Yeah. Ha. Ha. So, what’s the meeting?” If Steve was invited, but wasn’t aware of the purpose, it was doubtful they were all there to interfere in Barnes’ non-existent love life.

Natalia swung open the door and both men followed her in.

“ _Da, Natalia. Pochemu my zdes'_?” She ignored his pointed question.

“Evie. Everyone is here. Where would you like us?”

Barnes studied Evelyn’s face. Her eyes were a little too wide and her cheeks pale. Her breathing was shallow. Immediately he scanned the area. There was no one else in the lab, no obvious signs of incursion. He slid to the side, keeping his back to a wall and both the exterior windows and the door in sight. With a few strides he had her within arms’ reach. He readjusted the plates in his arm, in case they needed to move quickly.

“I can make the serum.” Her eyes went wider, as if she was surprised by her own words. Maybe he should have been shocked as well, but Evelyn was brilliant, and had been working with Pepper and now Darcy. If there was a single scientist in the world he would trust with that information, it was Evelyn. She started tapping on the edge of her desk. Barnes followed the rhythm: _longshort.longlonglong.longshort.longlonglong._

“Excuse me?” Steve looked poleaxed.

“I don’t want to know how. I wish I didn’t, but I can’t...can’t un-know it.” Her dark honey eyes flicked from Steve to Barnes to Natasha, then back to Barnes again before coming to rest on the whiteboard at her side. “Sodhi – he had samples, from people with the serum. Everything HYDRA could get their hands on. He wanted me to study them.” _longshort.longlonglong.long.shortlongshort.shortshort.long-_

“He wanted you to recreate the serum? Using...what? Bucky’s blood?” 

Steve was asking the wrong question, because suddenly other things were making sense to Barnes.  _You don’t have to worry_ , she had said.  _It’s all gone_ , she had said. All the samples, all of them, in one place. Destroyed.  God knows HYDRA had had more than enough time to drain him dry – more than once. Barnes had never fooled himself into thinking that there wasn’t still someone working on the serum, trying to recreate Steve – or at the very least the Winter Soldier.  _But if there are no samples-_

“No. _Scion -_ that was the name of Sodhi’s project. _Scion_ was...it...” Her free hand was clenched in a fist, her other fingers still tapping away. He could barely translate  the morse fast enough: _protiencoatingnucleic-_

“I wouldn’t. I didn’t, but…” She sucked in a deep breath, “He wanted me to use semen taken from Sergeant Barnes and yourself to inseminate women and grow a new generation of super soldiers.”

Sound was far away, muffled, like his head was wrapped in cotton. Evelyn was looking at him,  hand over her mouth and neck tensed mid-swallow . Barnes was aware of Steve sitting down heavily on a worktable. Equipment, no doubt expensive, fell to the floor with a crunch. Natalia was impassive as only someone with the answers could be.  _She knew_ . And Evelyn, her raspberry lip twisting and contorting  under shaking fingers  as if she had so much to say but couldn’t make herself say it and those honey eyes felt like they were begging, pleading for mercy.  _Why_ ? And her fingers were moving faster:  _transposonsreplicatedby-_

“Why didn’t it work?” Natasha remained relaxed, her expression mildly curious. Barnes felt like he was sinking. Drowning. _It’s all gone,_ she had said.

_Medical resource proven reliable._

“Excuse me?” Steve’s voice had dropped an octave and was cold enough to shatter bones.

“If they had the means,” Natasha reasoned, “they would have used them before now. Anytime in the past seventy years. For that matter, if they wanted children by the Winter Soldier – they had him. Why not just order him to the task?”

Barnes wanted to throw up. Had they ordered him? Had he raped some poor woman? Or worse – _better?_ \- had some loyal HYDRA female done her duty to the organization? He didn’t remember, but there were lots of things he still couldn’t remember from his time with HYDRA. Details – whole days – most of the eighties – were all shrouded in fog that only occasionally blew clear. He stiffened his spine to keep from bending over and vomiting on the clean tile floor.

“They tried.” Evelyn’s voice sounded pinched. He looked up at her, forcing himself to focus, but she was staring at the top of her desk, fingers moving too fast for him to translate the Morse code. “Sodhi gave me the files. Once in 1951, again in 1958. And the last time in ninety-two. There were five women, all HYDRA agents. Despite their best attempts, they couldn’t make it work. Sodhi speculated...speculated that the programming was the problem. Designed to sublimate the body and mind – overcome pain and emotion that could interfere with the mission. In the nineties they tried chemical stimulation, but he...” Finally she looked up. Stared right at Barnes. Her nose flared and her eyes pinched with self-loathing.

“You escaped the restraints and killed the woman. And the four guards who were there to force the act.”

Barnes wasn’t sure if he was grateful for that, or if it only added more deaths to his guilty conscious. Steve didn’t suffer from any indecision.

“Thank God.”

“And the samples?” Natalia prompted.

She was still holding his gaze. “Taken while you were still recovering from cryo.”

“So he couldn’t fight them,” Steve growled through clenched teeth.

Evelyn nodded. “That was where they made their mistake. It’s simple, really. They had poor quality samples that died almost as soon as they were...utilized – in layman’s terms. It takes months for sperm to be ready for fertilization, and it is a multi-step process.” Her lips twisted oddly, like she too might be sick. “There is a reason the in-vitro industry still collects samples the old fashioned way. Because they couldn’t elicit a physical response, they chose to extract directly via syringe.” Steve winced, but Barnes didn’t have the head space available to think about how painful that would be. “They skipped over key parts of the biological process. So even once HYDRA had IVF technology, they still couldn’t make the samples they had work. They thought, for a while, that the problem was with the source.”

“Me,” Barnes managed to say.

If it turned out he was sterile, it would almost be a relief. And a cruel joke on HYDRA – spending time and expensive resources on a blank gun. _Blank gun_. He could feel a mad laugh trying to work its way out of his chest.

“Yes.” She let out another slow exhale between pursed lips. “Which is why they took the risk while Captain Rogers was in the hospital in DC and had one of their operatives get a sample from him.”

“What!” Steve exploded off the table and Barnes quickly put his shoulder between his friend and Evelyn. Steve didn’t move to touch her, he wouldn’t, but Barnes could practically smell the fear, the guilt, wafting off of Evelyn. She was trembling, but trying to hide it. Her fingers brushed against her temple. _P_ _ecycp_ _oslablen._ _Zashchita._

“The main goal was your blood, but they took semen and spinal fluid at the same time. Sodhi tried to complete the project with that, but it still didn’t work. And they didn’t have enough to experiment with different methodologies.”

“Why reopen the project?” Natasha had moved around to Evelyn’s desk. She opened a drawer and took out a pill bottle, then handed one dose to Evelyn with a bottle of water. The Doc gulped it down quickly.

“I don’t know. They never said. At least not that I remember. They kept me either in the lab, where the samples were stored, or in a cell. I only ever saw Sodhi and my,” her face tensed with disgust, “assistant.”

Steve was obviously starting to think again, getting the anger that had always pushed him to make rash decisions under control. “The fire. There was an explosion that we didn’t set off, and I had to reroute our retreat because a portion of the base was on fire. You set that?”

Evelyn nodded, rubbing her head with both hands. “In the freezer. There was one slide out that I was working with, but everything else was in storage. Even if that slide didn’t burn, the smoke would have degraded the sample.”

“Is that how you burned yourself?” Steve was still primed to hit something, but he clenched his jaw and had himself under control. Barnes stepped away.

“No.” She described her planned distraction. The foolish, foolish risks she took with her own life. She had to have known the chances she would escape were slim. And if she had destroyed the samples but been recaptured – she would have lost all value to HYDRA. She was an intelligent woman. She knew they would have killed her. _And yet, she willingly risked that to-_

“Thank you,” Steve said quietly, but she was shaking her head.

“I didn’t do it for you. I’m a doctor, Captain. I was invited to learn under the most renowned surgeon in America and I turned him down. I could have worked as a genetic researcher for any of the top pharma conglomerates, but I didn’t even apply. I am a doctor so that healthy children can be born to parents that are desperate to offer them love. What Sodhi was doing – the children he wanted me to make – I couldn’t let a single child be born to that life.” Her voice grew more firm as she spoke. Conviction, and probably her medication, working to give her strength.

“And my eggs?”

Natalia asked the question softly. She held herself still, and that gave away how important the answer was to her. Barnes wanted to reach out to her, but knew it would not be welcome. Evelyn answered just as carefully.

“Viable, but not of any use to Sodhi. I found no evidence of serum.”

“Why is that?” In the blink of an eye, Natalia was the consummate spy again – cool and calm. If Barnes did not know every tell that she had spent her youth suppressing, he would not have noticed how shaken she was.

“It’s...” Evelyn gripped the edge of her desk and leaned against it. Without thinking, Barnes stepped up beside her and offered his arm, in case she needed more stability. The tips of her fingers brushed against the plates, but she didn’t lean on him. Instead, she looked to Natalia. Barnes could almost feel the resentment radiating in her words,

“I can’t take another pill today, and I’d rather not do this again. If that’s okay with you.”

Natalia inclined her head, then directed her next question to Steve and Barnes. “Do you want to bring Tony in to hear the rest?”

Barnes concealed his surprise. He knew Natalia had debriefed Evelyn in the infirmary after her rescue, and there was little that happened in the Tower without Stark eventually knowing about it.

“I assume this corroborates what you found at the base,” Steve stated shrewdly. “Does that mean you have kept Tony in the dark?”

“It should be our decision.” Natasha answered simply. Barnes hadn’t realized how tense he was until she declared the information theirs. _His_. No one had to know – or everyone could know. Steve and Natalia were both looking at him, waiting for his decision.

“It’s yours too,” he voice was gruff. “And Banner’s. I’ll follow your lead.”

“Banner gave up his vote.” Natalia sounded almost vindictive for a brief second. At Steve’s nod, she continued, “Friday, would you ask Tony to join us please?”

While they waited, Steve paced. Darcy was still at work, and he stated he didn’t want to call her and make her worry until they knew what they were dealing with. Evelyn raised an eyebrow at his decision, but said nothing else, just leaned against her desk and breathed carefully. Her fingers continued drumming. Barnes wasn’t sure what he felt. What he _should_ feel. He did know he could not examine it too carefully right now. Not in front of Evelyn and Natalia. Especially not in front of Tony Stark. He might have had kids. As many as HYDRA wanted. His kids. Locked up in boxes just like him. Electrocuted and cut and injected and beaten. Treated like objects instead of people. Made into killers. And he would have never known. Barnes slammed a mental door on that train of thought before he could scream in rage or punch something or sink to the floor and fucking cry.

“-summoned in my own building,” Stark was already talking when he walked in. “Natasha. Captain Virility. Barnes. Dr. Vivas.” He stopped, backtracked with his eyes, and sang, “One of these things is not like the other. One of these things-”

“Tony.” Natasha cut him off, and then launched into a summary of Evelyn’s recounting and the information she had taken from HYDRA’s servers. With every word Stark became more visibly furious.

“You said this wouldn’t have a larger impact.” The shorter man shook with rage. “I asked, specifically asked, why you were locking me out and you said it was personal – Widow business – and that you were dealing with it.”

“The samples were destroyed-” Steve started, but Tony talked over him.

“And now you’re saying she can make the serum? Are you kidding me? Even if we wanted to, why? Without Howard’s Vita-Rays, nothing good ever came from that damn formula!” The room fell silent, and Barnes could feel Steve studiously not making eye contact with him or Natalia. Stark muttered, “You know what I mean.”

“Indeed,” the Black Window said dryly. “Your considerable charm notwithstanding, perhaps we could let the expert answer that?”

“Well?” Tony demanded of Evelyn. Barnes stiffened again at his aggressive tone, but she answered with a calm voice.

“The Vita-Rays were superfluous.”

Tony’s mouth fell open and Barnes felt a brief, sharp moment of amusement.

“Not that they didn’t do anything, but the serum would have worked without any additives.”

“I don’t...forgive me, Evie. But I was there. Dr. Erksine was very confident that the Vita-Rays were what made the difference between me and Red Skull.” Steve frowned, but remained in control of his emotions, leaning back against the worktable again.

“He would have realized that wasn’t the case, as would have Howard Stark, if either of them had known about Ja- Sergeant Barnes.” She did grip his metal arm then and used it to pull herself away from the desk and over to her whiteboard. With quick, methodical swipes she erased what looked like complex chemistry and instead drew a simple box.

“The problem was, he was looking at the serum like a medicine. Or a vaccine. Something that cured what was wrong in a body. A step between sickness or even normal development and what he called the ideal human.” Evelyn glanced at Steve, then at Barnes, and he felt a twinge of inadequacy.

“We all knew Steve got the good stuff,” he said instead of pointing out how he was obviously not the good stuff.

“But he didn’t, Sergeant.”

“I am going to say something that I don’t say often, and if it leaves this room I will deny this conversation ever happened, but...I’m confused.” Stark leaned against the worktable next to Steve.

Evelyn tipped her head. “Or, rather, Steve got the same compounds as you, Sergeant. Ninety-seven point four percent similar. Compared to Natasha, whose serum was sixty-two percent the same as the Captain’s.”

“That’s...really fucking close. No way,” Tony was shaking his head. “HYDRA would have known if they got it that near to the original. They would have created dozens more. No need to kill my...Howard’s mixture would have been unnecessary.”

“They didn’t know what a good job they did. And partly because of the Vita-Rays.”

“I thought they weren’t necessary?” Steve looked as puzzled as Barnes felt.

“Look.” Evelyn pointed to the marker box. “Erksine, and everyone else who has ever messed with the serum, treated it like a cure. But it isn’t. It is a series of very complex compounds that have to be given in sequence but when it boils down to the basis – it’s a virus.” Tony slumped, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Like a cold?” Steve asked. Barnes felt as overwhelmingly puzzled as Steve looked.

“In essence, yes. But much more insidious. Viral infections are so difficult to get rid of because they infect individual cells, rewriting cell code and using the body to produce more viruses – instead of more blood cells or liver cells or anything else.”

Evelyn drew a twisted ladder that Barnes recognized, coiling the little serum square into its structure. “The serum is a virus at a _genetic_ level. Which isn’t unknown in nature, but wasn’t studied in depth until after Erksine died. Essentially, the serum injects its own code – the directions for what it wants – into the patient’s DNA. Each infected cell infects every normal cell it touches, and so on, until the entire body has been rewritten with the new code.”

“Bigger, faster, stronger,” Stark muttered. “Fucking brilliant.”

“And simpler than Zola or anyone else realized. They wanted instantaneous results, so they jump started-”

Stark interrupted her. “The cellular regeneration process. That’s why they tried radiation first. They thought it was fuel that the serum needed, but they were killing off old cells and forcing the body to make the new, infected cells.” He was nearly vibrating with excitement.

“Yes,” Evelyn agreed. “But that had negative side effects.”

“I’d consider shedding your face and becoming a megalomaniac more than a side effect,” Natasha stated dryly.

“The Vita-Rays did two things for Steve. One, they jump started his system, causing an explosive cellular regeneration and the immediate effects. Two, it provided a massive dose of nutrients to assist in sudden, rapid cell growth. Honestly,” she looked at Steve, “it was very rudimentary. I’m surprised it didn’t kill you.”

“Hurt like hell,” Steve grunted.

She continued, looking at Barnes again, “Zola was trying different combinations of compounds, various orders of injection and time between doses, as well as different mechanisms for powering the organic change. I think the only reason that you survived, Sergeant, was because Captain Rogers rescued you before they could complete the planned radiation treatment.”

Barnes remembered some of his time in Azzano. The table. The straps. Zola’s face in his grotesque magnifying glasses standing over him. One painful injection after another. Burning heat. Searing cold. Acid under his skin.

“Hurt like hell,” he echoed Steve.

“And probably you didn’t feel the results immediately. I would estimate, without the Vita-Rays, it would take at least several months before you benefited fully from the serum’s intended effects. At least that long for your cells to be replaced with the new code.”

Barnes thought back to that walk out of Azzano. The way he recovered faster than the other men who hadn’t been experimented on, but were only beaten and kept hungry. He thought about how he had felt stronger each week he was with Steve and the Commandos – but he chalked it up to simply recovering. He glanced at Steve for confirmation.

Steve shrugged. “You were always bigger and stronger than anyone else in my mind. And after I got the serum, I had trouble judging what was normal. You were sick after Azzano, but then you got better. I didn’t think anything else about it.”

“Zola thought the Army had exposed you to Vita-Rays after you were rescued,” Evelyn said quietly. “It was...in the notes Sodhi gave me. Even the HYDRA plants in SHIELD couldn’t find documentation of any treatment. They...questioned you...but you never told them what sort of radiation or other catalyst the Army used.”

Barnes did laugh then. Great, choking rasps of laughter that started in his belly and hurt his throat. “I would have told, if it were true,” he finally managed. All those months. While his arm was being cut and re-cut, pared down and matched to the prosthetic. While they punctured his flesh and took parts of his organs and drown him and beat him and kept him awake and starved him and fed him drugs and sizzled his nerves with electricity and – all that, and he actually _couldn’t_ tell them what they wanted to hear.

“That’s why so few Widows survived,” Natasha murmured.

“They only selected the best,” Barnes noted, sobering suddenly. A flash of memory overtook him. A slender, blonde girl with needles in her veins. Screaming and screaming and screaming.

Until she stopped.

“Even those who lived, not all turned out the same.” Natasha looked to him, and Barnes knew she was remembering the same tall, skeletally thin girl who never got stronger or more agile but who could be cut and burned and broken and always healed. Even her throat recovered from the constant screaming.

“They stopped using the radiation. I would guess they thought that the physical deformities were not worth the risk in patients designed for espionage.” Evelyn gestured to the box again. “And they were changing the serum at the same time. The base compound – the...basic step of the dance…remained the same, but each of you ended up with different embellishments.” Off one corner of the box she drew a triangle.

“Dense musculature and increased strength.” Another corner got a circle. “Agility and improved reflexes.” The third got a squiggly line. “Memory enhancement and skill retention.” The last got a straight line. “Enhanced healing. Natasha’s telomere elasticity is an extension of this feature. The serum injected the genetic code for these things into the patient, and then your bodies took over copying and replacing your own code with this new genome. Your original DNA but with changes and filled in gaps.”

“So Steve and Barnes can have super babies, but Natasha can’t.” Tony blanched, realizing what he had said in his excitement over new information. “I mean, no woman could.” Evelyn nodded, but Barnes was confused.

“Why?” Steve asked, his legendary way with words as present as ever.

“Because eggs are made in the womb,” Tony answered, not giving Evelyn a chance. He flapped one of his hands. “I mean obviously, in a lady’s lady bits, but they are literally made at the same time as the lady. Women are born with all the eggs they’ll ever have. It’s why older women can sometimes have trouble, their eggs are, factually, old. But sperm are made new all the time. Constant cell generation – so ample opportunity for new, super sperm. I read a pamphlet.” He shrugged, then snapped his fingers, “And if Lewis’ little parasite-”

“Don’t call it that,” Steve objected.

“-is a girl, then she’ll have super eggs.” Evelyn nodded. Tony ignored her and looked to Natalia, “Great. Good for Lewis and Captain Jizz-”

“Tony!”

“-but what does all this biology have to do with me?”

“It doesn’t.” Evelyn sighed, just barely stopping herself from reaching for her head again. Barnes could see she was in pain, her medication not enough to combat the stress she was under. “With things as they are, there are only so many serum-enhanced individuals that can be born, and only from two, maybe three, individuals.” She nodded to Steve and Barnes. “But there are also two people who could make them in a lab.”

“Two?” Tony stopped his pacing and narrowed his eyes.

“One,” Natalia stated. “Banner doesn’t count at the moment.”

“Oh.” Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh. That’s...not good.”

“No. It’s not.” Evelyn was flagging, her posture starting to droop. “And now, you can decide what you want to do about it. I’m going to lie down, please let me know if you need me for anything.” With that, she turned and walked out of the lab.

“Do about it?” Steve asked, eyebrows high.

“She means detain her,” Natasha explained.

“Permanently,” Barnes growled. He didn’t stay for the discussion, but left on his own, avoiding the elevator and hitting the stairs. He refused to think about what Evelyn had suggested they might do. House arrest. Imprisonment. _Death_ , a voice in the back of his mind whispered. She had been taken by his enemy. Interrogated. Tortured. She had not given up secrets. She had not given in. She had risked her life to prevent the same nightmare that he had lived from happening again to his children. To destroy what had been stolen from him. And she shared everything she had learned with Barnes and the others freely, even though she thought it could mean the loss of her freedom, or worse.

His pulse was surging. His instincts to run or kill a threat completely overcome by the roiling knot of fear and gratitude and pity and admiration and anger that swelled in his chest. _Vivas. Evelyn Gertrude. M.D. Obstetrics and Genetics Specialist. Surgical Training. Security Level One. Defense Priority One. Threat Level Seven._ _Medical resource proven reliable._

“Fuck,” he muttered, increasing his pace and heading for his own apartment. Emotion clogged the back of his throat and his brain was flooded with images of the Chair and the Box. Needles. Blood. His hands on a gun, a knife. A limp, broken neck. Evelyn leaning over him, _“I won’t let go”._

_Zashchita pecycp._ He wouldn’t either.

 

 

*  _unchenik – pupil_

_Da, Natalia. Pochemu my zdes' – Yes, Natasha. Why are we here?_

_Pecycp oslablen. Zashchita. -_ _Resource weakened. Protect._

_Zashchita pecycp - Protect resource._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky was interested in Evie from an aesthetic standpoint from the very beginning, and as she became friends with Darcy he developed a bit of a crush on her dry humor and obvious intelligence. Seeing her strength during the HYDRA ordeal only caused him to admire her more. Now, how could he not fall in love with someone who risked their own life to save others from a fate worse than what even he endured?
> 
> Pretty. Brilliant. Funny. Morally and emotionally strong. And legs for days.
> 
> He is so screwed.


	5. An Ass of You and Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Darcy. You just keep doing you.

** August 17, 2017 **

 

 

“Oh, good. Steve said I could find you here.”

Evie looked up from the free weight rack to see Darcy enter the gym. It was too early for the brunette to be at work, not quite seven. Evie had loitered far longer than usual, setting the treadmill to a brisk walk instead of a jog. Taking her time stretching. Going through an extra set of sit ups and lunges. Realizing she had been debating on which dumb bells to use for at least fifteen minutes forced her to admit that she had been hoping James would show up. He hadn’t.

Not that they had an appointment. It wasn’t a date. They hadn’t made plans. It was only that, usually, when she came in, he was already there doing his own workout. Out of some sense of obligation to their mutual friend – or, more likely, disgust at her lackluster ability to avoid abductions or public panic attacks – he had been helping her. She had gotten used to it. Maybe started to think it was more than it was. That they were friends. That he enjoyed spending time with her a least half as much as she was willing to admit she enjoyed spending time with him. Especially after she had stitched him up.

_You tell a_ _man_ _one time that you have the knowledge to illegally create his children without his consent for the purposes of experimentation and torture and suddenly he’s not interested._

_Idiota._

Darcy made a nauseated face at the weight lifting equipment. “Gross. Anyway, I wondered if you could come down to my office sometime  before today’s ultrasound . I’d like to talk to you about our medical team, get your opinions and whatnot. I don’t have a  space ready  for you  yet , but I’m sure Tony can make that happen if you’d rather be down by Yinsen instead of the infirmary. Or both? We can do both. Plus, if you are on my floor then we can have coffee breaks together. Although,” she frowned, “maybe you need your own entrance? Like, for privacy reasons? HIPPA isn’t really my area of expertise.  Oh, and that would mean you’d have, what? Four workplaces in one building? Is that excessive? What am I saying.” Darcy rolled her eyes and leaned casually against a resistance machine. “Of course it’s excessive. I have been hanging out with Tony far too much. The second I start telling people I need two helicopters – business and casual – then you need to promise you will slap some sense into me. Take me out for cart hot dogs or consignment shopping or something. So, have you had breakfast?”

Evie blinked, wondering what part of that word vomit she should unpack first.

“Danishes?”

“God, yes. And _decaf_ coffee, I promise.” Darcy linked their arms together, then immediately released Evie, wrinkling her nose. “But maybe a shower first? Ooo – can I pick out your clothes? Nat said Tony bought you a new wardrobe.” She began walking, and Evie fell in beside her. It wasn’t like she was accomplishing much in the way of her intended endorphin rush and  fatigue combo anyhow. And it was just pathetic to keep waiting around, now that she had recognized what she was doing.

Darcy continued, “I am completely jealous. Not for the new clothes, because it turns out you can buy a lot of new stuff when you have a job that pays in real monies instead of bulk pop-tarts and a sense of accomplishment, but for the _style_. I can’t have style anymore. Not unless that style is _check-out_ _-my-beer-gut_ or maybe _I-binged-on-pizza-and-that’s-why-I-look-slightly-too-fat-but-not-really-pregnant_. And also the ginormous boobs. I am getting dangerously close to  popping out of this bra. Steve is, of course, very excited.”

Evie let Darcy shoo her out of the gym and up to her own apartment, where she took a quick shower and only sighed when she saw that Darcy had, indeed, picked out her clothes. The  camel  pencil skirt ,  ecru  silk shell, and light blazer were fine, but the woman may have gone a bit overboard on the shoes. Four inch es of stiletto mule in electric pink toile. At least she would make a statement while she avoided her empty waiting room and tried not to go completely insane.

They got the last two cheese danishes at the lobby coffee shop and Evie was halfway through hers, and all the way into Darcy’s office, before she picked through enough of  Darcy’s verbiage to determine that she was being offered a paid position with the Yinsen Foundation.

“Wait, what?”

Darcy turned with wide eyes before sitting at her desk. “What, what? You don’t want a new office? I mean, my feelings are completely bruised. Scuffed, even. I thought we were friends. Like, blood sisters except without the gross sharing of bodily fluids and more of knowing who has a tampon when you really need one. Not that I have a lot of need right now. Which – probably in the top three best things about pregnancy. But, I get it, you don’t want to work on the same floor as me. Oh – is this like a personal space thing? Too much of a good thing, thing? Cause I hear you. Once, Jane and Erik and I spent thirty-two hours mainlining limonazo salt and Law & Order episodes.  My taste buds had to grow back . Erik still refuses to eat anything citrus flavored. I’m actually a little concerned for his risk of scurvy. Still love Ice-T.  _I’d rather be a new jack hustler._ LL Cool J stole that Grammy from him. ”

Evie blinked. “I’m more of a  _Body Count_ fan.”

“We can’t all be perfect.”

“A job with the Avengers?” She tried to get the conversation on track.

“Technically, it’s a job with the Yinsen Foundation, but that’s just semantics. I really should have hired a Director of Medical ages ago. Especially considering how often the team needs band aids and traction and how rarely they actually use medical services. I printed out a copy of the benefits package along with the employment contract – I know how sometimes Tony can gloss over details and he forgets how the rest of us are enamored of things like Dental and HSAs. It’s a quirk that-” Abruptly, Darcy cut herself off, one hand still buried in her desk drawer. Her eyes narrowed at Evie.

“What?” Evie felt like a concussed parrot. Maybe she needed more medication. Maybe she was too stupid to keep up with someone like Darcy. Either way she was not only losing the conversation but so far behind she couldn’t even see the conversation from where she was standing.

“Tony didn’t talk to you, did he?”

“About working with the Avengers?” Evie took a deep breath. “No. No, he didn’t. Exactly how many babies are you all expecting that you need an on staff OB/GYN?” She did not mention genetics. The serum. The security risk she posed to the team and the world if what was in her head was ever let out. If HYDRA found out how weak she was. How close she had been to giving in.

“Like, no more than three?” Darcy squinted at the ceiling, her mouth pursed in thought. “Although I haven’t really talked to Steve about that yet. I’m kind of waiting for him to have the balls to bring up the whole out-of-wedlock thing so I can not feel so bad about admiring the ring he’s got threaded through his dog tags. I mean, who even hides things behind cookbooks? Is this amateur hour or something? So that’s three hard max for us, I would bet no more than one for Pepper and Tony – because can you imagine? Maria with two siblings would rule the planet within a decade. And then what would Pepper have to do with her time? She’s not exactly the lounge about and eat bon bons type. I can’t speak for Sam, although, oh God, I totally want to ask him now. Or would you? Please, please ask him. At Thanksgiving. I’ll invite his mother right now so she can be there. Too good. Too, too good.” Darcy was typing away at her phone, a manic smile on her face as she continued.

“Laura has assured me that she is done. Apparently Clint was snipped by SHIELD medical after Nathaniel. You might want to double check that. What with the evil HYDRA of it all. Do you think they cared about Clint’s reproductive capabilities? Steve says Bucky never really talked about kids before the war.” 

Evie nearly choked on her own breath, but Darcy wasn’t paying attention so she had a moment to get herself under control.

“I think Mrs. Barnes lost a couple of babies. He is uber weird about this voracious all-American appleseed I’m carrying; you should probably have a talk with him about modern pregnancy. Tell him how safe it is and whatnot. See if that settles him down and makes him ready to, you know, _settle down_. I tried, but the dude was all like ‘shut the fuck up, Lewis,  I don’t want to hear about your cervix’ so I just changed his monitor wallpaper to a Georgia O’Keefe painting and locked it with an admin password. Ah!” Darcy grinned and waved her phone. “Darlene is coming to Thanksgiving. And she’s bringing childhood photos. Where was I? Um, I’m not sure what the whole Wanda situation is about. I don’t think she really wants kids. Now that I’m thinking about it, though, I kind of want to know if Vision even can. Like, what is he shooting there? And I kind of don’t? But I do? This is a real catch-22 situation. I assume Thor will insist on some sort of magical, painless golden Asgardian pregnancy voodoo – which I’ll admit I am a little jealous of. That is if the big guy ever convinces Jane that children aren’t the sticky, smelly, time sucking pseudo-vampires she has always believed them to be.

“Petey better not be having any kids anytime soon. I gave him condoms. In three flavors. And I have a bot emailing him birthing videos at random times. I may have scarred him for life. Nat might bring some home – just because it would be unexpected. But they would be, you know, fully formed and totally paper-trained before we even knew they were there. And it’s not as if she would steal them from someone...probably. Unless they needed to be stolen. I could see Lang having more. He is like the Champion of Dads. I’ve considered foisting my kid off on him until it is like, twelve or so. Hope doesn’t really seem maternal, but sweet baby ray’s their kids would be cute, right? Snarky and smart and tiny.” Darcy snorted. “Tiny, right?” 

Her snorts broke into all out laughter and Evie managed to break in with, “Are you serious?”

Darcy immediately sobered. “I am as serious about this as I am about my ban on mayonnaise in the workplace. Seriouser.”

“That isn’t a word.”

“Whatever. The point is that Tony told me he would ask you, which I assumed meant lob a contract at your head and then beat feet to somewhere tropical, but apparently he failed at even that modicum of responsibility. Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Lewis?”

“Tell Tony he is grounded.”

“Of course, Ms. Lewis.” There was a brief pause. “The Boss says he promises to stay in his room after he gets back from the current mission. And that he is,” the computer-generated voice huffed gently, “busy keeping your sexual aide in one piece so you should be more thankful.”

“When did they leave? I didn’t see any alerts. How bad is it that Tony is going into the field?”

Evie watched as Darcy held herself carefully, projecting an air of calm that the doctor was sure her friend was not feeling.

“Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers are taking off from the secondary landing pad now, Ms. Lewis. Ms. Romanoff requested their assistance in de-escalating a situation. No combat is anticipated and ETA for their return is six o’clock this evening. The particulars should be in your inbox now.”

Darcy reviewed something on her computer, and she didn’t get any more tense, but she didn’t seem to be relaxing either. Evie pushed down her own fears and concerns in an attempt to help take Darcy’s mind off of it.

“By your ever so scientific count, that is a minimum of four. Given average reproduction rates of Americans in your socio-economic bracket, I would estimate between four and seven. That isn’t a job, Darcy. That’s a slow week in a maternity ward.”

“A maternity ward where the babies might spontaneously combust, bend the bars on their cribs, or grow big enough to make changing diapers a FEMA issue?”

“You really aren’t selling this.”

“Wait til you see the travel allowance.”

Evie sighed, fighting down a smile. “I get stock options at SI.”

“You drive a hard bargain, missy. How about you make us brownies after my appointment and I’ll throw in an extra week of vacation?”

“How about I cut up a fruit and vegetable platter and you stop trying to bribe me with made-up jobs?”

“You wound me. In my heart place. I am wounded.” Darcy narrowed her eyes. “Split the difference? Pineapple upside down cake and you at least review the contract.” She waved a thick stack of papers in the air.

“You realize that child is going to be thirty percent sugar, right?”

“It’s fine.” Darcy shrugged. “Steve will make it wear a poncho so it doesn’t melt in the rain. He’s prepared like that.”

“ _Dios mio._ Fine. But you will eat a balanced supper or I will tell Steve on you.”

“Psh. Go ahead. I’m not afraid of him.”

“He’ll be disappointed.”

Darcy lowered the contract to the desk. “Aren’t you Catholic? You go to hell for extorting a pregnant lady, I’m pretty sure.”

“Purgatory, at most. And I’ll be with friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this idea that Evie feels she failed because she doesn't think she would have lasted through any more interrogation. The fact that she was there three weeks and gave up nothing doesn't register for her, only the guilt that she figured out how to do what HYDRA was asking her. She may not be able to gauge her own strength, but she would never fault someone else for the same situation. She is her own harshest judge.
> 
> Sounds like someone else we know.


	6. Everyone Has a Plan Until They Get Punched In the Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When has eavesdropping ever, in the history of ever, not worked out well?

** **August 18, 2017** **

 

Barnes had been avoiding her. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it. After she had revealed what HYDRA had her working on...Barnes had gotten pretty good in the last year at recognizing his own mental state. He needed some time to process, and it would better if he didn’t run into Evelyn and accidentally unleash  himself on her before  _he_ knew how he felt.

“Cumin and oranges for the chicken – and honey. Straight from the comb is better, but I use the regular kind most of the time. It’s easier to find. Garlic and rosemary for the potatoes.”

He had done a good job of staying out of her way for nearly forty-eight hours. Right up until Darcy and Evelyn took over his apartment for a cooking lesson. When the Doc expressed hesitation with being in his place, Darcy had talked loudly about how Steve had stocked the apartment with every pan and utensil available. She also pointed out that Jimmy – god he hated it when she called him that and kind of loved that she didn’t stop even though she knew he hated it – had an open door policy for her and he wasn’t home to be bothered anyhow. They hadn’t ventured past the kitchen, so they didn’t see him reading on the sofa, but there was no way he could get up without them noticing. Initially he had been frozen in surprise and torn between announcing his presence and waiting to see if Evelyn would mention him. By the time he had decided that yes, he should move, he had waited too long and it would be awkward if he got up. He had resigned himself to laying still until the two women left. If they came into the living room, he could always pretend to be sleeping.

Darcy inhaled deeply  while she mixed the ingredients as Evelyn pointed them out. “ _Mmm_ . Smells like...” 

_Sunday dinner_ , Barnes thought. But different from any Sunday he remembered. They had never been able to afford chicken, he  remembered vaguely , and a  soft-focus memory from long ago of boiled beef and canned green beans on an embroidered tablecloth confirmed that special meals from his childhood may have been more cherished, but were certainly less indulgent. His mouth was watering at the smell, and the  main course hadn’t even been put in the oven yet. It was the meal that he could imagine a well-to-do family, somewhat less wealthy than the Starks but not far off, eating in their dining room before or after the War. He wondered if Rebecca had ever made such a meal for her husband. 

Behind his book, laying down on the sofa in the living room, he couldn’t see Darcy or Evelyn, but a _woosh_ of steamy air and bacon fat alert ed him that more was going on in the kitchen than he had discerned from their conversation.

“What’s that word for nostalgia for something you never experienced? Like Mother and Father and two point five kids sitting down after church. Is that bacon for the _vegetables_? Oh my sweet pork raised goodness, it is, isn’t it? You’re making me want to go to church now, Evie. I’m Jewish, Evie. I’m _Jewish_. Is that...did you make a goddamned pie?” Darcy sounded near to hyperventilating. Barnes risked a quick look over the back of the couch. There was, indeed, a pie.  Two of them. The crusts were lattice and still raw but revealed crimp-edged windows to purple-blue fruit.

“ _Sehnsucht_. Pops said roast chicken wasn’t the same without pie.”

“You aren’t going to try to teach me to bake too, are you?”

Evelyn laughed, and it did wonderful things to her. Her posture relaxed and her cheeks rose to crinkle her eyes. “Not today. But I would remind you that you asked me to do this. I’m sure Steve would understand if you ordered take out for supper.”

“No. No. I can do this. He spent two days in DC and I need to soften him up before I break the news that he missed the ultrasound. And give him the ultrasound. Holy fuck, this better work. He is going to lose his shit. You’re sure this is your best mellow-out-and-be-cool-with-everything meal?”

“I think you are overreacting, but yes. I made this meal the one and only time I had to explain to Pops why a Sheriff’s deputy had confiscated my driver’s license. He was worked up during his pre-dinner beer, down to muttering over the potatoes, and forgot to even ground me by the time the pie was put away.” Barnes listened to the shuffle of pans on his counter and the almost imperceptible creak of the oven opening. “That’s too hot still. Let it cool and then we’ll crumble it into the green beans.”

“Forgot to ground you? Where where you when I was experimenting with bad boys and girls? So why’d you lose your license?”

If Darcy hadn’t asked, he might have had to reveal his location and miss smelling the rest of their cooking session. He could admit he wanted to know – more than he wanted to emphatically _not_ know about Darcy’s experimental phase.

“I didn’t lose it. It was temporarily held,” Evelyn said primly, then paused, and Barnes risked another look. Darcy was standing at the sink, fingers wet and dripping, and eyeing the Doc knowingly. Evelyn sighed, her posture straightening back to refined and professional. Cooking in her work clothes she looked classy and wholesomely wanton. A pair of patent black pumps were lined up neatly by his door. It was a combination that made his head spin and his gut heat. “There was a...misunderstanding with my cousins.” She sighed again. “Eddie stole a bottle of tequila from his older brother and got Lupe and Sarah completely soused behind the pharmacy in town. Lupe was thirteen. I found them and drove them home, but Sarah threw up out the window of my car into the street in front of Aunt Tima’s house. The deputy was my Uncle Mario. Pops had to drive me to the ACTs the next day.”

“That might be the worst MIP story I have ever heard.”

Barnes had to disagree. He could picture the proper doctor trying to round up her younger cousins. Maybe giving future lawman Eddie the evil eye over the whole thing. Calmly telling her uncle that she understood the rules and handing over her license without any fuss.

“I didn’t say it ended there.”

Barnes gave up pretending to read and held his breath to hear what happened next.

“Oooo,” whistled Darcy. “Do tell.”

“They started out with a full bottle. It only took a couple of shots each to get completely plastered. Even Eddie – leightweight. He still can’t hold his liquor. They left the bottle under the seat in my car. I got the car back the next weekend and took the tequila with me camping with the cousins and their friends. I don’t remember much after jumping off the canal gate in my underwear, but two boys at school had black eyes on Monday, and I won Winter Royalty Queen, based solely on the whispered exploits. I still have a scar on my butt that Sarah swears she stitched up for me with fishing line. More likely I did it myself. She faints at the sight of blood.”

“Holy shit.” Darcy sounded equally impressed and envious. “You’re a bad seed, Evie Vivas.”

Barnes would admit to a similar reaction – with the addition of considerably less honorable feelings. He was far too invested in wondering what the scar looked like.

“Not so bad, I’m afraid. You have no idea how scared I was that Pops would find out I was drinking underage. I don’t think I sat down in his presence for a month for fear he’d see me wince. Get the flake salt, would you? Two pinches, and grind it with your fingers...Yeah, like that. In any case, I haven’t had tequila since.”

Barnes immediately thought of six places in the Tower where he knew he could find a bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated my website again, for those of you wanting the chronological order. (Linear time. I have trouble with it, okay? :)) I am up to Chapter 95 there, just short of "Epiphany", and I added some supplemental artwork-ish things as well. Let me know what you think, if you want more, if maybe paint-by-numbers might be more my speed...
> 
> Also, keep those requests for missing scenes coming. As I catch up to real time, the opportunities to explore specific scenarios and interpersonal dynamics are dwindling.


	7. Her Finest Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. Barnes might as well thrown in the towel. He's done for.

**August 18, 2017**

 

 

“This isn’t one of your better ideas, Darcy. Probably in the bottom twenty-five percent.” Barnes wrapped up the green beans, the dish prepared and ready to be put in the oven at the brownstone. He set it in a crate next to the roast chicken. According to Evelyn, she just had to turn on the heat and set a timer. He hoped Darcy could manage it without burning Steve’s place down.

She arched one dark brow and fisted her hands on her hips. “This is the best idea, Captain Kirk. Second only to jumping Steve’s bones and interning with Jane.”

“The Doc and I-”

She interrupted his excuse with a snort. “The _Doc_ and you are adorable and hot-as-hell and forever-and-ever, _mazel tov_ . Amen. _Gezundheit_ . But even if you aren’t? Wors t case scenario the two of you are still pretty fucking hot and a darn good time. And there is nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. You don’t think Evie deserves a good time? You don’t think she deserves somebody who can understand what she’s been through and who won’t treat her like she’s broken now? You don’t think she deserves a nice meal and a pretty face to look at? Someone who doesn’t think _she’s_ lucky to be with _him_?”

Barnes swallowed uncomfortably. As always, Darcy cut things close to the bone, and soothed it with a cool coating of ridiculous.

“Ain’t nobody who wouldn’t be lucky to be with _her_ , not the other way around,” he muttered. And that was the truth. Evelyn was wildly intelligent – she had figured out the serum after less than a month with samples from him and Steve. She was pretty and classy and funny and had a body he wanted to...and she was strong. Stronger than most women, and living in the Tower he knew powerful women.

He left the bag of warm rolls vented and set them carefully on top of the pie so they wouldn’t get squished.

“That’s what I’m saying, Jimmy.” She rolled her eyes and poked him in his flesh arm. “Don’t think that doesn’t mean you’re not a catch, you are, but I got to stick by my girl on this. Evie deserves the _best_.”

“And you think setting her up with the world’s most deadly assassin, a man with only _most_ of his brain and short a limb, a man with more enemies than Stark – which is a real fuckin’ feat. You think you’re doin’ her a favor?”

“You really think more people are after you than Tony?” Darcy wrinkled her nose. “I mean, you killed a lot of people, sure. But...it’s Tony. He’s a media whore and an asshole. But I guess most of the people he pisses off are quickly soothed by the gentle caresses of financial remuneration. Then again, you’re a badass, and the deadliest blah, blah, blah, but-”

“Darcy,” he warned.

She abruptly turned serious. “Jeff in Yinsen Logistics stares at her ass when she comes to meet me for lunch. Evan in SI security has been asking around about her. Pepper has offered to set her up with no less than four of the top twenty-five most eligible bachelors in America. _That I know of_.” She waited a beat. “You don’t want her? You’re not interested? Say something now.”

He called himself selfish, and a coward, and a slimy good-for-nothing mook, but Barnes didn’t say anything.

“Then buckle up, buttercup. Because this is happening. I am providing a happy ending here even if it kills you.”

He noted, as he carried the box of food and followed Darcy’s sashay out of his apartment, that while his memory was still touch-and-go, he was pretty sure happy endings weren’t supposed to be a threat.

An hour and a half later, as he was towel drying his hair and dreading the corned beef and wheat bread in his refrigerator for supper, Friday interrupted his thoughts.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Yeah, Friday. Go ahead.” His stomach rumbled. He was hungry enough to almost feel sick and he could still smell the thick scent of roast chicken and bacon permeating his apartment.

“Dr. Vivas asked me to notify you when your meal was ready. I have taken the liberty of shutting off the oven. Would you like me to bring up the instructions for the rolls while the meat rests?”

Barnes tossed the wet towel toward the rack in the bathroom, not caring even as he heard the plop of it hitting the floor. His stomach cramped and he grabbed the first pair of sweatpants on his closet shelf, slipping them on over still damp skin even as he walked out of his bedroom.

“She did what?”

“It was part of Miss Lewis’ cooking lesson, Sergeant. In your kitchen. Today,” the AI added helpfully, and not a little pointedly.

He had assumed the delicious smells simply hadn’t faded yet. After Darcy had finally left he had tried returning to the couch and his book, but it hadn’t had the same appeal while his thoughts drifted to pan gravy and butter melting on fresh rolls. Not even a long shower had given him any interest in his expected supper of bland processed meat sandwiches.

Once in the kitchen, he could see that Friday had helpfully turned on the oven light. He opened the door and was hit with a wave of steam that had his mouth watering and his tongue practically hanging down to his chin. Dead center on the main rack was a heavy roasting pan. The bird nestled inside had crispy, golden brown skin and was sprinkled with thin, twisted orange slices. He pulled it out with his metal hand and set it on the stove top, fully prepared to dig in with a fork and eat right over the open oven.

“Poultry should rest in its juices for a minimum of ten minutes prior to carving,” Friday recited. Barnes almost ignored her. He didn’t give a good goddamn about proper cooking etiquette, or whatever.

The AI continued, “Under the towel to the left of the sink is a tray of rolls. Dr. Vivas left them out to rise, and they need to bake for twelve minutes. Shall I bring the heat to the appropriate temperature?”

He turned and lifted a tea towel he had assumed Darcy forgot to put away. Perfect, smooth mounds of dough, brushed with butter, filled the pan to almost overflowing.

“ _Augh._ ” He cleared his throat. “Ah, yeah. Thanks, Friday.”

“Very good, Sergeant. Please remove the pie and replace it with the rolls and the dish of green beans from the refrigerator.”

“Oh, god.” Barnes gripped the counter with both hands, breathing carefully to control himself so he didn’t accidentally crack the quartz. He recalled the two pies from earlier, and that he had only seen one in Darcy’s crate of food. Once Friday had mentioned it, he could pick out the smell from under rich meat and yeasty dough.

 _Flaky_ _, buttery pastry. Blueberries. Cinnamon_ _sugar_ _._

“Sergeant?”

“I am going straight to hell,” he whispered into the pan of rolls. All of his good intentions to do what was best for Evelyn and keep her at arm’s length melted under the heat of the open oven at his back and the sight of a Sunday dinner he had never had – didn’t deserve – prepared just for him. “ _Boh dopomahaye tsiy zhintsi, vona zastryala zaraz zi mnoyu_.”

 

* _Boh dopomahaye tsiy zhintsi, vona zastryala zaraz zi mnoyu – God help that woman, she’s stuck with me now._


	8. Tongue Twister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Steve and Darcy. And delicious foodstuffs. 
> 
> And an ultrasound.

**August 18, 2017**

 

 

Steve looked skeptically at the makings of a large meal spread on their marble island. A seasoned, whole chicken. Southern-style fresh green beans. Mashed potatoes that smelled of garlic and butter. Soft bread rolls.

“You really made all this, Sweetheart?”

“Psh. Don’t sound so surprised, Steven. You are always telling me cooking isn’t that hard – it’s just following directions.” Darcy sat on the other side of the island, toying with a glass and a bottle of flavored water and doing a terrible job of looking down her nose at him. She came off as more comical than condescending.

Steve braced his hands on the counter and held her gaze with a hard stare.

“Darcy. Sweetheart. There is a pie here.”

She threw her hands up in the air, nearly losing the water. The glass teetered dangerously for a second until he reached over and stabilized it further from the edge.

“Ugh, fine, you got me. Evie did most of the work. I just chopped and stirred. And seasoned! Don’t forget that! I got to crush up salt and mash peppercorns. I dusted with cumin. _Dusted_. Did you even know that was an actual thing, cumin? It was totally real cooking!”

Steve lowered his head in apology, hiding his smirk. “It looks delicious. Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome,” she answered magnanimously. “How was DC?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That good, huh? Nothing got blown up, no one was arrested, so it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Nat owes me now.”

“Whoa. Serious get.” Darcy waggled her eyebrows. “Do you think she’d teach me to lie better?”

“I am not turning in my favor for that.” Steve snorted and shook his head. “Anything else you want to try and pull over on me?”

In a sultry voice she replied, “I’ve got something you can pull.” Darcy frowned and straightened up. “Never mind. That didn’t work as well as I thought it would. Hm. Things I want to lie about. Two lies and a truth?” Steve enjoyed that game. Darcy was terrible at it. “Okay. I-” She raised one eyebrow. “Hello, Earth to Steve. I am providing you free entertainment here, the least you could do is finish dinner.”

“Terribly sorry, how rude of me.” Steve started the oven preheating and began putting away food, quickly finding a note taped to the chicken. Dr. Vivas had deplorable handwriting, but her instructions were concise. He double checked the temperature and then opened the water for Darcy. It had bubbles and smelled like strawberries. “Have I earned a good story yet?”

“Start pouring, kitchen boy.”

“Anything to be of service, Miss Lewis,” he smiled. Steve could have reached her glass from his side of the island, but he made a show of coming around to stand next to Darcy. She leaned into his chest, pressing vanilla-scented softness up against him. It made the past two days more bearable. God, he hated Congress.

“So,” she took a quick sip and tucked her hand into his back pocket, pretending that she didn’t notice his twitch of surprise when she squeezed. “Lies. Lies, lies, lies, li- oh. Your best friend was really in the doldrums while you were gone. Just – a super sad sack. It was pathetic. People noticed. A homeless, out of work beeper salesman saw Bucky and decided his own life wasn’t so bad. Moping around, complaining that there were no bad guys to shoot or stubborn assholes to save. I felt terrible for him, so I totally gave him his space and just let him know that he didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, but that I was there for him. Solidarity in absentia.”

Steve pulled her hand out of his pocket so he could take a seat on the stool next to her, facing her so his thighs bracketed her body.

“Yeah. That sounds like something you would do. Minding your own business. And also completely believable that Bucky would complain to anyone.”

“I know, right? He’s such a chatterbox. Just yabbers on all day about all his trivial problems. Yawn.”

“That all you got?” Steve promised himself he would circle back around to the Bucky situation, but in the months he had been with Darcy he had learned it was best to let her get the ridiculousness out of her system before attempting a serious conversation. Not that he didn’t enjoy it. It was a sharp, sweet contrast to the hard realities of his job.

“I gave Tommy a raise. The staff collected funds and bought him a sugarless vegan cake.”

That was actually harder to believe than the story about Bucky.

“Oh, and Evie went ahead and performed the ultrasound. Sorry I wasn’t patient enough to wait for you. We’re having twins. So, congratulations on having, like, super virility.”

_Twins_.

Steve went deaf. He wouldn’t have believed it was possible, not since the serum, but he wasn’t seeing very well either. Everything glazed over in a soft-focus sepia tone and his ears were muffled. It was- He was- Darcy- Steve leaned his forehead against her hair and sucked in a breath. _Twins. Two babies. Oh, god._ Steve was not prepared for this. He wasn’t prepared for one baby. How could he deal with two? How would he keep them safe? He hadn’t even researched crash test results for vehicles yet. He was still driving the motorcycle most days – he couldn’t take a baby on a motorcycle. And why was he just thinking about this now? He should have already taken care of this. It was on his list, he had just thought he had more time. But there were only five months left - and didn’t twins usually come early? How early? Ma always said twins were likely to be smaller and less healthy. _Will the serum prevent that?_ _Darcy is so small._ _Does_ _she_ _even have room for-_

“You still breathing up there, Steve?”

Steve forced himself to exhale. Darcy was patting his hand where it wrapped protectively over her belly. With his left he had a death grip on the back of her bar stool. He relaxed his fingers and winced at the muffled crack of wood under the upholstery. Twins. Okay. He could deal with twins. He just needed to make a list. Start planning. Clear goals.

_Jesus, twins._

“So...you’re not upset that I looked at the ultrasound without you? I know we said we were going to do it together.”

“How could I...” Steve choked out a laugh. “Darcy, don’t you think that is kind of small potatoes at this point?”

“Oh, good. Well, here then.” She reached into her bag where she had left it on the counter and fished out a roll of paper. She could barely look him in the eye, and her teeth were sunk so far into her bottom lip he was afraid she would draw blood. Steve opened it with shaking hands. It was a series of photographs, in startling detail. He had thought he knew what to expect – he had researched ultrasounds and seen examples of the 3D images. This was so much better. The baby’s eyes were closed. Steve could easily make out the nose and chin, a little mouth wrapped around a thumb – all five fingers on display.

“Is it...is it sucking it’s thumb?” He traced the picture gently with his index finger. Steve’s throat felt tight.

“Yeah. I guess they do that. Evie says it’s pretty normal. And I asked about the ginormous head – she says that’s normal too. I mean, I think it kind of looks deformed, all ribs and noggin’ and bony little legs, but I guess. It does explain why I’ve been feeling like someone is trying to shank my pancreas. Those knees are fucking lethal, and I’m told it only gets worse. Joy. Everything is on track, except that the tapeworm is still measuring about four weeks ahead of schedule. Evie thinks the serum is helping build everything faster – so that there will be time for growing extra dense muscles and, like, super eyeballs and stuff.”

The next photo on the roll was straight on rather than in profile. Little knees were drawn up to its chest, feet crossed at the ankle. The feet did look disproportionately large. The ear was small, more of a bump on the side of the head. Steve’s eyes were hot, but he didn’t want to blink and miss anything.

“At the bottom are some traditional shots, the 2D kind. Evie says those are better for judging growth rates and health. She said the spine looked really good. And she found all of the important organs. Personally, I think they look like Rorschach tests.”

Third down was a strange angle of the baby’s heels and legs. The curve of its back, bottom, and…

“A boy?” Steve was quick to hold the pictures further away so his tears wouldn’t fall on them. “Is it...it is, right?” He could barely hear his own voice, could barely get any sound out past the lump in his throat. This was their baby. His and Darcy’s. A perfect little boy. One perfect little boy.

“Oh, my god, you are losing your shit.” Darcy laughed, but it sounded watery. “I told Evie you would. It’s a good thing I’m such an emotional rock since you’re such a sap.”

One _._

_One_ perfect little boy.

_Oh, thank god._

Steve glanced down at Darcy’s face. She was looking up at him, tears sparkling on her lashes and mascara starting to smudge. Her smile was wide and almost blinding. He had never loved her more. He glanced back at the photos, quickly scanning through the entire strip.

“Darcy,” he asked slowly. “Did you actually give Tom a raise?”

She sighed. “He did a really excellent thing to this online guy who – not important. He deserved the cake, too.”

“Darcy. Did you lie about how many babies are in there?” He rubbed her stomach and tried to school his face into what she called _America-is-disappointed-in-you_. It was hard to do with his mouth still curling up in a smile. She grimaced. Steve wondered if he was mad. They played the two lies and a truth game all the time, but this – their baby – didn’t seem like appropriate fodder for teasing. Then again...one surprise baby suddenly seemed much easier to prepare for. Steve examined her face closer. She was biting her lip again, and the corners of her eyes were wrinkled with worry. “Did you...did you really think I’d be mad that you went ahead with the appointment?”

“I knew it was important to you. I kept putting off canceling because I thought you’d be back, and then I was there and Evie asked if I wanted to see and I...I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Sweetheart...” Steve sighed and pressed a kiss to her eyebrow, pulling her almost into his lap. He gazed over her head at the photos. _Our_ _son._ “I’m not mad. I should have called to let you know, but I was hoping we would wrap it up sooner, and then Nat pulled out a garrote and by the time the apologies were over I realized the appointment was probably already done. We’ll do better next time. I promise I’ll clear my schedule.”

“Next time?” She poked his stomach with her elbow. “I’m not even done cooking this one, Steve. Who said there’ll be a second one?”

Steve was still reeling from the photos – something he never would have been able to imagine when he was growing up. Hell, he had had trouble imagining ever getting a girl, much less having a baby. But they were. Together. He and Darcy and this knobby-kneed, thumb-sucking, perfect little boy were a family.

“Well,” he said calmly, doing his best to keep his tone even, “we’ll need enough to man the infield at least. You think Stark would sponsor a t-ball team?”

Darcy whipped around fast enough that if Steve hadn’t been holding on to her she would have fallen off her stool.

“Shut your mouth, Steve Rogers. If you invoke some sort of pregnancy curse on me I swear to god I will murder you in your sleep. To hell with serum, I will find a way.” She endured his laughter and his kiss, but was still muttering to herself. “After all the work I did to help your ungrateful, ancient, disgustingly adorable, brother from another...and I didn’t even involve Nat...no respect...”

He laughed, and squeezed her again. “I could never be mad about this, Sweetheart. But, maybe we could make a blanket rule that the pregnancy and baby are off-limits for two lies and a truth? I’m not sure my super-heart can take that sort of shock.”

“Okay,” she agreed easily. Too easily. He would have expected her to argue for the hell of it. “You want to see the block set Wanda and Vision sent over? It took me a second to get the joke. It’s all ones and zeros.”

“After supper,” he replied. “Tell me more about this thing with Bucky.”

They ate and talked and laughed. Steve packed up the leftovers; Evie had made plenty even for him. Darcy loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the counter. Steve spent a few hours in his studio while Darcy read through her news feeds and did a load of laundry. Steve finished his usual evening routine, carrying the ultrasound pictures with him from room to room until he finished his shower and set them on his nightstand while he got ready for bed. His mind kept turning over everything that still needed to be done.

Find a family friendly vehicle.

Outlet covers and cabinet safety locks.

Those bumper things for table corners.

They still hadn’t picked out a crib.

He wanted to paint a mural in the nursery. Maybe something with ducks.

There would have to be new security measures. Buck would have good ideas.

Darcy walked through the closet, finger-combing through her wet hair with one hand and straightening one of his t-shirts over damp skin with the other. She was saying something about vegan cake and the surprising consistency of applesauce. Steve picked up the photos again, tracing over one round cheek and five tiny fingers.

“Oh, god, Darcy,” he interrupted her with a whisper. “He’s so beautiful. Thank you.” He turned to her gathering her up in his arms, pulling her into his lap so they could look at the photos together. He pressed his lips to her neck and spoke against her skin. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

“Steve.” Darcy squirmed in his lap, finally taking the ultrasound and setting it back next to his lamp. She cupped his cheeks in her hands. “This baby...this isn’t something I’m giving to you. You don’t need to thank me. Or if you do, then I need to thank you too. We did this together. We _are doing this_ together.” She brushed her lips against his. “This is just what you deserve, Steve. Good things. You deserve all the good things.”

He kissed her back. His chest was over-full and warm in a wonderful way. The baby was an accident. Would have been a mistake when he was five years younger and women were expected to keep their legs closed until marriage – and men were expected to marry a gal if they got her pregnant. But in the twenty-first century, with Darcy, their baby was perfect and wanted and a honest-to-god miracle, as far as he was concerned. He should have never lived this long. Shouldn’t have been able to have kids. Hell, he would have never guessed he would ever get a dame to spend enough time with him to get pregnancy – not without Buck smoothing the way, anyhow. He had a _family_.

Nothing on earth could make him let this life go.

“I love you, Darce.” He pulled away to look her in the eyes, studying the blue-green framed by thick lashes and the tiny freckles high on her cheek.

“I love you too, Steve,” she replied, just a seriously. “Now, do you want to be on top, or do I have to do all the work around here?”

Steve would have never imagined his life could be so good. That he could be so content. So happy. That he could laugh while he made love and fall asleep with the mother of his child wrapped in his arms. But he could. He did.

He did all the work, too.

Twice.


	9. TKO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone honestly think Steve DIDN'T have a plan to help Bucky out?
> 
> He does owe him for all those double dates, after all.

** August 19, 2017 **

 

 

“She told you she was leaving?” Steve kept his voice neutral, but he watched Tony closely. The man was a practiced liar, but he did have a few tells. He was agitated, but trying to hide it with big movements and flippant words. His honest concern was obvious, though, if for no other reason than he had cornered Steve in the elevator as he returned to the Tower from a run. Sam was leaning against the wall, holding a box of coffee cake and biting his tongue. Bucky kept his back turned, facing the closed doors with a straight spine and more tension than he had suffered around Tony since Sweden.

“Near enough. She asked Pepper for a dinner recommendation. You need to do something about this.”

“Do something about what, exactly?”

“The date,” Tony threw his hands up in an explosion of emotion, “obviously!” 

Steve was acutely conscious of how Sam was coiling in on himself, trying to make a smaller target, and Bucky was breathing slowly like he was readying to take a shot. 

“Tony...” Steve began carefully. The elevator doors opened to the penthouse.

“Coffee,” Tony insisted. “You will sit down and drink coffee like a normal, average, normal person and listen to what I have to say. I am right about this, and I am going to explain to you why in a reasonable tone of voice and that will achieve results which will be satisfactory to all.” Tony strode toward the kitchen and Sam followed with the cautious but resigned walk of a prisoner being led into the arena, leaving Steve to hold open the elevator until Bucky decided to come or go.

Reluctantly, Sam asked, “Are you actually trying to have a conversation about this? Did Braithewaite – no. Nope. None of my business.” He shook his head and set down the bakery box, taking the knife and serving fork Tony provided and dishing up breakfast carefully. “Forget I asked. I’m just gonna eat and you all can pretend I am not even here. Hey, is that a dark roast? Why don’t I go examine that closely and to the exclusion of all other things happening in this room?” He carried his plate over to the coffee maker and stared at it intently  while pushing forkfuls of breakfast food into his mouth If it were possible  to make beverages  through sheer will alone.  If it were possible, Sam would have been able to open his own Starbucks .

Bucky’s nostrils flared, but he too stepped out of the elevator. Steve breathed a tiny sigh of relief and turned his attention back to Tony.

“Why is this a problem? Clint has a few of the new guys in the Tower already – Bucky said they were good for field trials. They can escort Evie and make sure she gets home safely. Unless you have changed your position on her security risk?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Rogers. I am not her jailer. I’m just saying that having someone outside the restaurant isn’t good enough. A lot can happen when someone is out of line of sight. And what do we even know about her date? Can this guy be trusted? Sure he did his residency with her, but that was years ago. Why is he contacting her now, of all times? It’s suspicious. We need a background check before Vivas goes off with some stranger who could be a plant. One glass of dosed wine and BAM, we’ve got a missing or dead doctor and Clint’s flunkies are too far away to do any good.”

“She won’t drink ‘cause of the meds,” Buck murmured under his breath, then crammed his mouth full of cake. Steve was impressed he could chew with the scowl contorting his face.

“So what is your solution, Tony? You don’t want to keep Evie on lockdown, but sending her with Yinsen security isn’t good enough either. I’m not going to ask a very nice young lady to isolate herself when she could be out having a good time with an old friend based on nothing but speculation. I need options if you want action.”

“Ain’t a date,” Bucky muttered. His jaw was clenched so hard Steve thought his teeth might crack. “Colleagues. The guy. Christine Palmer. And Strange.”

“Stephan Strange?” Steve raised his eyebrows. He had only met the man twice. He seemed competent, and his name was too fitting, but he couldn’t imagine Evie being friends with the arrogant doctor. “Didn’t he and Ms. - excuse me, Dr. Palmer work with Evie while she was a resident?”

“Perfect.” Tony clapped his hands together and poured himself a cup of coffee, none-to-gently shoving Sam away from the machine. “Just make it a double date.” 

“I think it already is,” Steve murmured. Sam slurped coffee Steve felt certain was still too hot in an effort to keep himself from talking.

Tony continued as if he hadn’t heard. “ Send someone with Vivas. With security right there at the table, she’ll never be out of sight. No opportunities for snatching.”

Steve did not look at Bucky. Sam was trying to catch Steve’s gaze too, but Steve avoided him as well. “If Evie is okay with that,” he began slowly, “it could work. There is a guy on the SI roster who could blend in pretty well. Darcy says he’s already friendly with Evie – Evan, I think. Yeah, he’s the right age, and nice. Always asks how she’s doing. I’ll talk to her about-”

The snap of porcelain was loud, but Steve couldn’t turn fast enough to see what happened. He only caught Bucky washing off his hands – no plate in sight. 

“I’ll go,” he said flatly. His hair was falling down over his eyes, and his shoulders were tense.

“Even better. No one will get remotely close with Barnes there, and Strange knows him, so that won’t be weird. Weirder. Whatever.” Tony drained the last of his coffee and gestured to the cake. “Take your processed sugar and get the hell out of my house. I have important, billionaire things to do.”

“Taking a nap?” Sam guessed.

“Back to school shopping, _Wheeler_ , and none of you are invited. So, go utilize one of your generously provided apartments and hash out the details there. I am done with all of you.”

Sam scooped up the cake and Bucky lead the way back to the elevator. No one said anything until the doors were closed again. Sam stared up at the ceiling, a wide smile splitting his face.

“So...what you going to wear, Barnes?”

“Your face on my fist if you don’t shut the hell up, Wilson.”

Steve loved it when a plan came together.


	10. Whatcha' Waitin' For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-posted.
> 
> Whoa, I'm so sorry about the formatting error. Hopefully this looks better for everyone!
> 
> This sort of problem was bound to happen, given that I have the internet connectivity of a Siberian outpost. The Winter Soldier could get on Napster in 1998 faster than I can upload rich text. *Sigh

** August 19, 2017 **

 

Sweat dampened Evie’s palms and she took a deep, measured breath to calm her nerves while she waited for the elevator. She hadn’t been outside of the Tower since her run with James and subsequent embarrassing breakdown. She had told herself that as soon as an opportunity came up, she would push her boundaries and beat back the agoraphobia that was starting to creep up on her.  Braithewaite forced her to act with a gentle, reproving  _come-now-we-both-now-the-clinical-signs_ face and an  insistence that their most recent appointment would not end until Evie made concrete plans to leave the building. The psychiatrist waited patiently while Evie made a phone call – praying that it would go straight to voicemail so she could put the whole thing off until she was alone and better situated to back out or panic if necessary.

Just her luck, Christine had answered on the second ring. Evie’s suggestion that they meet for coffee was countered enthusiastically with dinner. Less than an hour later, before Evie had even had a chance to talk to Pepper about a reservation, Christine had texted her with a request that Strange and Dr. Charlie Braxton join them. In for a penny, in for a pound, Evie had thought at the time.

Now, as she smoothed her hand over the leather leggings she had found in her closet, Evie was having a terrible case of plans remorse. She hadn’t really wanted to go out to begin with, and that had been during the day with only Christine. She had thought to borrow an SI car and have the driver wait outside a cafe for her. Now it was drinks – which she didn’t think was wise with her current condition –  at night – which somehow seemed more intimidating - and dinner with  _three_ people. Evie liked Christine. She even liked Stephan Strange for all that he had been a demanding  attending physician and was still a bit of an ass. She remembered Charlie Braxton with a vague fondness from her residency – a nice man with the sort of beautiful skin tone that was only achieved through  genetics, not time in the sun, and a dedication to helping people. Christine had told her that Charlie worked in the same hospital with her, and that he apparently remembered Evie far better than she could recall him and wanted to talk about a breech birth procedure that was being trialed in Great Britain.

When she had told Pepper about the dinner, the suggestion that Tony might need to get involved from a security perspective had been a tremendous relief to Evie. Unfortunately, he had not decided it was too big a risk, but had only sent her a message through Friday to let her know security would escort her.

The elevator pinged its imminent arrival and Evie felt guilty. She was too old to hope she might get grounded so she wouldn’t have to attend a dreaded party. The doors opened and she stepped inside before she realized that she wasn’t the only occupant. 

James stood stiffly next to the control panel,  his eyes focused somewhere over her shoulder. It had been three days since she had seen him. He looked good. A clinical part of her mind was noting his improved color and the reduction in the circles under his eyes. He  was much healthier, he might have even gained back the weight lost while he was under the influence of HYDRA’s tranquilizers. She wondered how his bullet wound had healed – if it was still tender or if it had scar r ed.  _Buenas noches enfermera_ . He looked  _really_ good. His usual boots had been shined and tucked under dark jeans  which held a loose grip on his thighs  that only emphasized the musculature underneath.  A brown tweed sport coat and darker brown vest covered a blue button down left open at the  neck . 

_Imaginarlo desnudo sería tentador incluso si no supiera cómo se veía allí._

Evie snapped her eyes straight ahead to stare at the closed doors. She had no problem discretely ogling strangers. Noticing when a friend looked good and offering a compliment was polite. Admiring a potential date was an expected pleasure. However, as James –  _Barnes_ – didn’t fall into any of those categories, thinking about his ass was inappropriate. And unprofessional. But it was helping her nerves.

“Hot date?” She asked to make conversation and hopefully distract herself from the way his jacket bunched around his biceps and distract him from the way she had dragged her eyes all over his body.

His face twitched oddly before settling into a scowl. “Something like that.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. She hadn’t actually expected him to be going out. He didn’t seem like he enjoyed crowds. Or people. And it was hard to picture him on a date. She had never heard him engage in small talk. Or seen him smile at anyone other than Steve, Darcy, or Sam Wilson. Briefly, she entertained herself with the idea of him at a speed dating booth – forced to answer banal questions over and over again. Evie shook the image away. Ja- _Sergeant_ _Barnes_ was good looking enough that there were plenty of women who would have no problem if he stayed silent and frowning all night.

And through breakfast the next morning.

“Well,” she tried again, fiddling with the jacket she had draped over her arm. “Have a nice time then.” The elevator arrived in the lobby and she would have stepped out if he hadn’t moved to block the way, muttering under his breath something that sounded like, _fucking Stark_. She couldn’t be sure, but Tony was cursed by many on a daily basis, so it wouldn’t surprise her.

“I’m your security tonight.”

“Isn’t...” she glanced around him and through the private lobby to the SI car, driver, and suited security guard, “I think I already have that?”

“I’ll go inside with you. Stay closer to you.”

She glanced up at him. His nostrils flared, as if he were upset, but he met her gaze without any irritation or anger that she could see. 

“Unless you have a problem with that? Another-” his jaw flexed, “there is a SI guy who could take my place.”

“No. That’s...this is fine. Thank you.”

He shifted out of the way and with only the slightest hesitation offered her his elbow. Through the light coat and his shirt she could feel the unforgiving hardness of his left arm. Most of the worry she had been carrying around drained away. With her fingers gripping metal she was at least certain that she wouldn’t be accosted or hurt while she was away from the safety of the Tower. The only thing left to fear was social anxiety. A potential panic attack. One or more of her dinner companions bringing up her absence. Her work. The news reports of geneticists that had gone missing. Her scowling, beautiful, Avenging escort. 

_Thank you, Dr. Braithewaite. Great idea._

 

 

_*Buenas noches enfermera – Good night nurse._

_Imaginarlo desnudo sería tentador incluso si no supiera cómo se veía allí. - Picturing him naked would be easy even if I didn’t know what he looked like under there._


	11. Engraved Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I screwed up so royally with the last chapter, and everyone was so understanding - have another. On me.
> 
> What can I say? I'm in the middle of a blizzard with only Bucky/Evie and my generous readers on the brain. ;)

** August 19, 2017 **

 

 

“Dr. Vivas has just left her apartment, Sergeant Barnes.” At Friday’s predetermined warning, Barnes stopped adjusting the fit of his coat over his P220 and opened his door. He passed Natalia’s apartment – where he knew Wilson was gossiping like an old woman at a church social - on the way to the elevator. He threw out a curse on the man, more on general principal than any proof that Wilson was trying to wheedle information about him from Natalia. Not that she would share anything she didn’t want to.

_Droch áird chúgat lá gaoithe._

He frowned in confusion and boarded the waiting elevator. HYDRA certainly hadn’t taught him any Gaelic, and he couldn’t call up an exact translation in his mind or a memory of where he had picked that up. Ho wever, he somehow knew the wish was embarrassing for Wilson. Exactly what he deserved for worming his way into Barnes’ head with his accurate observations and mild suggestions that were, no doubt, for his own good.  As far as Barnes was concerned,  Wilson  would benefit from taking  a long walk off a short pier – and invit ing Stevie to go along.

“ _Unless you resent her – or just aren’t interested – there is no reason to skulk around avoiding her. Just ask the woman out. Or are you not into… Oh man, I got to apologize for the jokes about your way with the ladies._ _I never thought they might be a beard._ _You can be honest about it, no judgment here. This is the twenty-first century,_ _sexuality is a much more fluid concept – socially speaking_ _. And, hey, I’m sure Nat could find you a nice boy who’s into ordering off the early bird special_ _menu_ _._ _A senior citizen discount must be sexy to someone._ _”_

“ _Fuck off_ _,” Barnes had growled, but Wilson had just sipped his coffee and kept on with his impromptu and borderline insensitive counseling session._

“ _This is all making so much more sense now. I thought you were using your eyeballs to measure the curve of her ass because you wanted to get with that,_ _I must have been mistaken_ _. Hey, man, it’s cool. You gotta do you. And the Doc will be fine on her own, you know? She’s hot, and pretty damn funny. We’ll set her up with that Evan guy for her dinner tonight and maybe something will work out with him. Bonus – he’s already cleared to be in the Tower, so if she wants to take him home, the background check should be a snap.”_

“ _Wilson,” Barnes had crushed his own coffee cup and thrown it away with more force than was necessary. “Die in a fire.”_

Wilson’s laughter had echoed across the mezzanine even after Barnes stalked away.  Steve’s friend was right – damn that asshole. He  _was_ interested in Evelyn. And after his revelation over roast chicken and blueberry pie he was also resigned to probably being rejected and possibly bringing more trouble into her life  but  still  going ahead and  pursuing her anyhow . He was going to ask her out, he just hadn’t found the right words yet. He’d been thinking about it obsessively for twenty-four hours, but he didn’t want to rush himself. He had plenty of time to decide what to say and how to approach her. Or he did, until she had gone and scheduled plans for herself. 

Barnes wasn’t jealous.  He wasn’t dating her, and t here was nothing to be jealous of  in any case . He had done the background checks on Doctors Palmer and Braxton, and  Friday already had a thick file on  Strange . He was aware that when she knew Braxton, Evelyn had been dating a man with an unfortunate Polish surname who was currently in Central Asia treating a smallpox outbreak. There was no romantic history there.  Barnes was more concerned with her safety and mental recovery. He wasn’t at all concerned that she would decide that what she needed was to spend more quality time with someone not at all associated with her abduction, drugged interrogation, and torture. He was not at all worried that she had read his medical files and once she had the opportunity to compare him with someone normal she would realize how lacking he was  and he would miss his opportunity . 

Definitely not jealous.

At least, he had been able to tell himself that until the elevator opened and s he s tepped in.  His mouth went dry.  He forced himself to keep his eyes on the wall, but his peripheral vision was good enough that he still took it all in.

Her hair was up, but softer than when she was working. Fat curls had been pinned to the back of her head and left enough volume on top to immediately make any man want to thrust his fingers in and let it all tumble down. Her eye makeup was dark, her lower lip painted with a slick pink gloss that made it look wet. Her shirt,  _Holy Fucking Roosevelt_ , she was barely wearing a shirt. Straps thinner than spaghetti noodles crossed over her slender shoulders and descended into a vee that dipped between her breasts. Black lace overlapped black silk and fell just past the waistband of her pants. And he wasn’t sure pants was the correct term for what might as well have been body paint.  The long, lean lines of her legs, the place at the top where her thighs just barely touched when she stood still – and that made enough spit pool in his mouth that he had to swallow – the high curve of her calves made more pronounced by her heels.  _Holy Mary, Mother of God_ , those shoes. Delicate gold chains draped around her ankles and dripped  down the top of her foot and across her toes. 

He imagined he would be able to hear the faint clink of metal if she left them on during sex. 

He was going straight to hell.

_I’ve_ _been worse places._

“Hot date?” 

He met her polite gaze, and wondered if she was fucking with him.  _God, I wish she would f-_ Barnes scowled at his own trashy thoughts. Evelyn was a classy lady who deserved a hell of a lot better than him. The least he could do was try not to drool over her where she could see him. “Something like that,”  he managed to get out past his clenched jaw.

“Oh.” 

He watched her smooth a jacket  draped  over her arm, and wished he didn’t have to wear one. He was overly warm  before she had sent his pulse skyrocketing.  Unfortunately, a tucked in dress shirt  was useless for conceal ing his weapons. A nice date was difficult enough to prepare for without having to endure other diners staring in horror at the armory he preferred to have on his person at all times. He certainly didn’t need Evelyn wonder ing why he had a set of throwing knives strapped to his lower back. The gun under his arm and the K-bar on his right hip were better left covered. And the ballistic knife and .357 on his ankles seemed like more of a second date reveal. Maybe third. Or never would be good too.

Barnes suppressed a snort of derision at himself.  _Oh, yeah. This is going to go swell._

“Well, have a nice time then.” 

He realized what she meant almost too late to stop her. “Fucking Stark,” he muttered, but managed to close his lips before the rest slipped out,  _can’t manage to do fucking anything fucking right without fucking it up._ Of course no one had told Evelyn about the security plan. Of course Stark had requested a beefed up protection detail for her without discussing it with her. For that matter, Steve should have said something to her. Barnes reminded himself to beat the snot out of the punk the next time they were in the ring together.

“I’m your security tonight.” He tried to keep any inflection out of his tone; there was no call to take his frustration or nerves out on her. 

After a false start and a wide-eyed glance at the lobby, she replied, “I think I already have that.”

Goddammit. He really didn’t want to have to convince her of this. He hadn’t even figured out how to ask her out yet, he sure as hell didn’t want to beg her to take him on her night out under some pretense.  “I’ll go inside with you. Stay closer to you.”  _You sound like a real creeper,_ he chided himself. He breathed deeply, but rather than clear his head it only filled his lungs with the rich scent of buttery chocolate and spices.  _Great._ Now he wanted cake, sex, and to shoot someone. Preferably Stark, but Steve would do in a pinch.

He forced himself to offer an alternative.  “Unless you have a problem with that?  Another...” he had to push the suggestion out of his mouth, “ there is a SI guy who could take my place.”  Her eyebrows rose slightly and her cheeks tinted pink under her makeup. Her lips parted, that glossy color catching the light and drawing his attention.

“No. That’s...this is fine. Thank you.”

For a few precious seconds, his relief at her acceptance  delayed his own internal conflict. Sometimes attitudes and ingrained behaviors from a youth he couldn’t remember would float to the surface. It wasn’t a date, but he wanted it to be. And even if it wasn’t, she wasn’t actually on a date with another man, so he was definitely her escort – Barnes had to resist the urge to growl at himself.  Instincts from a bygone era were generally pretty irritating, but the idea would nag at him until he acted on it or found something else to occupy his brain.

He offered her his arm, like a  gentleman was supposed to do for a lady on the way to the car, and only realized after she tucked her fingers around his elbow that it was his left.  Her grip was firm, might have been uncomfortable to a normal man, but it made him aware of the emotions she was so good at keeping tamped down behind a cool, closed-lipped smile and professional demeanor.  _She’s nervous._ The knowledge swept away most of his  own  nerves as Barnes focused on her – making her more comfortable and keeping her safe. SI security opened the Tower entrance for them and a female guard – Ourada was one of Clint’s – held the rear door  of the vehicle while she scanned the sidewalk and street. Barnes wrapped his flesh hand around  Evelyn’s cold fingers on his arm to help her down into the car. That was when he saw her back.

All of it. Naked. She was missing half of her shirt. His eyes traced down the groove of her spine and the smooth flesh on either side all the way to a draped cowl of lace that concealed her waistband and brushed the top of her ass. He jerked his gaze up to sweep the surrounding buildings for threats. His training assessed potential sniper positions and other pedestrians. His newly-invigorated libido assessed what she could possibly be wearing for undergarments. 

He slid onto the seat next to her. Ourada close d the door behind them. Barnes listed to  the muffled radio communication with Tower security, noting they were on their way.  Evelyn crossed her leather-wrapped legs and her shoes jingled softly. The blast of air conditioning quickly made it clear that  she was not wearing a bra of any kind.  She shivered.

_Yebat-kopat._ He was definitely going to hell.

Barnes cleared his throat. “Can I help you with your coat?” If he was really lucky, their destination would be equally zealous about beating the summer heat and she would want to keep the jacket on and zipped up tight the entire evening. It would be better for his flimsy sanity. She accepted,  _thank Christ_ , and he managed to keep his eyes on her hair rather than the soft movement under her shirt as she put her arms in the sleeves. She did not zip up, but the  lapels fell loosely closed , keeping her decently well covered.

It wouldn’t be a long drive, traffic allowing, but he noticed her almost immediately grasp her own fingers, squeezing them. Her breathing was purposefully even. Barnes kicked himself for not thinking about her abduction _from the back of a car_ and how she might not like sitting in the dark with the privacy screen up.

“Tell me,” he started, then stopped because he wanted to ask her a lot of things, but he needed to come up with something benign but interesting enough to keep her mind occupied. Something comforting. It had been a lot of years since he had comforted anyone. She turned her head to look at him expectantly. The movement released another faint burst of cinnamon into the air. “Where do you buy your shampoo?”

Her mouth parted in surprise. Barnes wanted to shoot himself.

“I...I don’t. My cousin makes it. She owns her own business. Body wash, hair rinse, salt scrub, that sort of thing.” She smiled, and Barnes felt a little less self-conscious. “When we were in school, she tested a bunch of recipes on all of us cousins. I think everyone in the family had at least one bad reaction. I spent almost an entire semester with a green tint to my hair sophomore year. I thought it was kind of cool. Very punk rock.” Barnes knew punk rock. He tried to picture a younger Evelyn with multi-colored hair and a nose ring. He was sure she could pull it off.

“If you like it,” she continued, “Sarah has a whole line of products that are geared toward men. Although, everything is technically unisex. But I guess most men don’t want to smell like lavender.” Her smile kicked up on one side, teasingly. “Or kitchen spices.”

“Hmm.” He breathed deeply. “Maybe not. I’d get awful hungry if I was constantly smelling cinnamon and chocolate cake.” Barnes internally winced at his word choice. He was hungry enough alright. Her reaction kept him from sinking too far into irritated self-humiliation. She blushed. Anything that made the poised Dr. Vivas blush had Barnes curious. “Maybe your cousin could sell me some of that.”

Evelyn cleared her throat. “The chocolate is my lotion. That’s...not from Sarah.”

“Oh?” If anything, his interest had her blushing harder. Barnes didn’t think he’d ever used anything to make his own skin soft, but that wasn’t really the point. “Where could I pick up some of that?”

She pursed her lips, then sighed out a self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t buy it. It’s a sample...for pregnant women. I get tons of it at the office for patients.” She rolled her eyes, blush fading but smile still evident, “I guess I was raised to be frugal – Pops was tighter than bark on a green tree, because I would rather use cocoa butter intended for stretch marks than pay for body lotion. In my defense, it is really good, and it would only go to waste seeing how few mothers I have to give it away to.”

Barnes nodded, feeling his own smile tugging at his lips. He tucked away the little bits of information about her childhood and focused on how to keep her distracted from the car ride. 

“So is Darcy gonna start smelling like you?”

“Probably. Eventually. Why?”

“No reason.” He whistled and shot her a broad grin and a wink. “The serum gave me a good nose and a big appetite.”

Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open.  _She already knew that, idiot,_ he told himself.  _She was forced to review every goddamn thing that serum did to_ _you_ _._ He plunged on, keeping his smile up and hoping not to step on any more landmines. 

He forced himself to be casual,  “Steve is the same. He’ll be thinking of chocolate cake all the time and not knowing why. I could get a lot of free desert out of this.”

“You don’t think Darcy will tell him?”

“Not if I let her in on the cake deal. She’ll hold out for a sixty-forty split, but it will be worth it. Steve makes a good cake.”

She chuckled. It started out rough, a little breathy, but gained volume until she threw her head back and laughed loudly. Her cheeks were pink, her golden eyes dark and sparkling with good humor in the dim light of the car.  Sitting there, with her close enough that their arms brushed and he could pick out the vague odor of her deodorant and toothpaste under cinnamon and chocolate and the leathery clean car smell, he felt more relaxed that he had in years. Decades.

“Just deserts?” she suggested slyly.

“Some might even say righteous desserts.”

“Honorable?”

“Virtuous,” he agreed, biting his lip to keep from laughing. 

“That must be some cake.”

“A real...meritorious experience.”

She laughed so hard she fell into his side, gripping his forearm while tried to keep her seat. She didn’t calm down until the car came to a stop. 

 

 

_*Droch áird chúgat lá gaoithe – That you may be badly positioned on a windy day_

_Yebat-kopat. - To fuck dig, an expletive of extreme surprise._


	12. See Myself Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly, but surely, Bucky and Evie will come together. 
> 
> First is traumatic experiences, then drugged nudity. Then comes sharing of fears, burdens, and jokes. Then sex. Then love. 
> 
> Then a baby carriage? 
> 
> Definitely no kissing in trees. Probably.

 

**August 20, 2017**

 

 

The floor was cold under her feet. Evie wished she had shoes, thought about turning around and finding some, but she couldn’t make herself. She had to keep going. Down the hallway. Down, down. Tiles sloped, gradually at first but then becoming steeper until she had to press her palm against the wall to keep from falling, sliding, tumbling away into the darkness.

She couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t see anything but the tiles before her and the old yellow paint on the wall under her hand. She was going somewhere. There was somewhere she needed to be. Had to be. She wanted to turn around.

Her breath was loud in the darkness. Harsh and echoing against the concrete walls and hard tile floor. Each inhale was more difficult than the last – as if she were climbing a mountain in high altitude instead of walking down. Down. Down where it was darker and something was waiting for her.

It wasn’t just her breath. Another mouth was breathing too. More than one. Blowing dry air in and out, in and out, brushing against her skin with a ghosting, unwanted touch. She tried to walk faster, tried to get away from whomever was in the hall with her. She didn’t want to go any further.

The breaths were getting closer. She could feel them on the back of her neck, whispering against her spine.

“Why?”

Evie whipped her head to the side, clutching at the wall, but she couldn’t see anyone.

“Why didn’t you stay with us?

“Why are you leaving?”

“We’re all alone.”

“It hurts. It hurts so much. Come back.”

“Don’t leave us.”

The voices were swirling around her, spinning her, her socks sliding on the cold tiles. Her fingers dug into the wall, scraping away the skin on her fingers to keep her upright. Shadows were moving in the darkness. Small things, things she couldn’t define, but she knew what they were and it made her skin crawl.

“Just a baby. You gotta pay first for my baby girl.”

Wind rushed at her, a shadow made whole. Evie threw up her arms over her face to protect herself, but then she was tripping, slipping, falling into the darkness, a scream stuck in her throat.

She hit the floor with her knee, and the nightstand with her knuckles.

2:45 a.m.

The blue glow of the alarm clock was quickly overtaken by the apartment lights.

“Dr. Vivas, do you require assistance?” Friday’s voice was soft and gentle. The light chased away the darkness, but Evie could still feel the chilling whispers on her skin.

“No,” she rasped. “No, thank you, Friday. I’m fine now.” After several deep breaths she hauled herself up off of the floor. “Thank you for asking. And for the lights.”

“Very well. I will return to passive monitoring. Please do not hesitate to ask should you require anything.”

Evie nodded to the empty apartment as the lights dimmed again. As had become usual in the nearly three weeks since her return to the Tower, Friday had left the kitchen cabinet accents on in the wake of her nightmare. Evie had hoped the terrors would become less frequent with time and better dosage of her medication. That hadn’t been the case. At least once every night, sometimes more, she woke shivering. One time her throat had been raw from screaming. That was preferable to the tears that left her face sticky and her eyes burning, her head throbbing. She needed to solve the issue, that was clear, but short of drugging herself she couldn’t think of a way to keep her fear at bay. And working her body into exhaustion wasn’t an option since her exercise schedule was so closely monitored.

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, Evie pulled a soft, shapeless cardigan from her closet and paced the apartment. She made three circuits, drank a glass of water, and re-braided her hair with shaking fingers before deciding that this would be a night that she would not be able to return to sleep. She slipped on a pair of ballet flats, her pale silk pajama pants pooling over the top. She felt a little guilty about not doing justice to the expensive wardrobe from Tony, but she doubted anyone would be up to see her so early in the morning.

Once out in the hallway, Evie was at an impasse. After she had watched over James as he recovered from the tranquilizers, she had become suspicious as to how he so often seemed to be where she was. And while he was incapacitated, Natasha had developed the same startling ability. An inquiry to Friday had revealed that he had enabled a mild form of tracking on her within the Tower so he would know if she went to the gym or Banner’s lab, or if she left the secured floors. Evie had lost her temper when she found out, saying quite a few things to Friday about the man that he probably, _mostly_ didn’t deserve. Later, she had realized that it was well within his scope as the Director of Security for the Yinsen Foundation. She was, after all, a tremendous liability for all of the Avengers – and James specifically.

While she had come to terms with her new lojacking, that didn’t mean that she wanted James to review his messages in the morning and know she had gone to work at three a.m. Or worse, have Friday wake James up in the middle of the night to notify him. He had only been doing his job, he didn’t deserve to lose sleep just because she was. He had probably already lost enough thinking about what she had done and what she was capable of doing. No need to compound her guilt.

She walked silently through the hall, extra careful not to make any noise as she passed Sam Wilson’s door just in case he was in residence. Friday turned on low LEDs near the carpet, keeping the lighting soft and warm and fading it off behind her. It was thoughtful of the AI, but Evie found it disconcerting after her most recent dream. To avoid it, she decided to take the elevator to one of the rooftop terraces. Evie knew she had access and she couldn’t imagine that Barnes would care that she was technically outside the Tower as long as she wasn’t in a public space.

“Friday,” she hesitated, thinking she was paranoid but knowing that she would worry about it if she didn’t check, “does Sergeant Barnes receive live notifications for everywhere I go?”

“I am not certain I understand your meaning, Dr. Vivas?”

“I was thinking of going to Rooftop Three, but I don’t want to disturb his sleep.”

“Sergeant Barnes will not be wakened by your planned activity. Shall I direct the elevator there?”

“Please.”

Evie hoped he was sleeping well. _He deserves it._ After everything she had told him, he had somehow managed to come to a place where he didn’t blame her for what she knew. Or, at least, he was doing a marvelous job of hiding any resentment or anger. She smiled to herself as the elevator rose. Her dinner with Christine could have ended very badly. Evie had fully anticipated having to make an excuse halfway through appetizers and endure a mild panic attack in the back of the town car. The evening had gone far differently, and it was almost entirely due to James.

He had teased her during their ride. Smiled in a way that made it impossible to think about locked doors and sedatives, and impossible _not_ to think about the way he said her name when he was drugged and how good he looked in his jeans and dress shirt. And how good he looked in nothing at all. He had joked. She wouldn’t have guessed he was capable of it – at least not with her. But he had joked about Captain America and she could have sworn, for just a second, that he had flirted with her.

“ _The serum gave me a big appetite.”_

Evie had felt a little rush of heat at his words. Even though he obviously hadn’t intended her to take them in any sort of sexual way, she had. Had enjoyed that too. And the rest of their conversation. He had her out of the car and directed to a high top table in the corner of the restaurant bar before her own laughter had died down. There had been a few tense moments, of course. Strange seemed intent on insulting Barnes. But then, he was also intent on insulting Braxton, the bartender, their server, the President, Tony Stark, and Evie herself. Everyone who was not Christine. Evie was used to his behavior – mostly unintentional – and ignored it. Barnes hadn’t retaliated, but he wasn’t amused either. Braxton, who clearly remembered Evie far better and far more fondly than she remembered him, had been awkwardly flattering over their first drink, and just awkward by the time they were being seated for dinner. He also fell deathly silent every time James’ eyes landed on him. Thank god for Christine or the dialogue would have flopped numerous times.

Evie could admit she had breathed a sigh of relief when she returned from the restroom – Ms. Ourada had been pointedly waiting in the hallway outside the ladies room and entered in front of Evie, then waited by the sinks until she was done – and found that Braxton had been called back to the hospital. Christine had informed her of his absence with barely concealed guilt. She even went so far as quietly apologizing for inviting the other doctor, not realizing that Evie didn’t know him well or that Braxton was romantically interested. Strange swept away shortly after that, leaving Christine to pick up the bill with a roll of her eyes and good humor that implied it happened more often than not.

James had insisted Evie stay for dessert even after Christine had left. They both ordered cake with a shared grin. He ate his and half of hers. It wasn’t until she had wished him goodnight and closed her door that she realized she had not been worried for her safety even once. Uncertain about the outfit Darcy had insisted upon? Yes. Nervous about politely letting Braxton down? Definitely. But not afraid. Evie strongly suspected that had more to do with her companion than her own recovery.

The elevator doors opened to a dark night with a gentle breeze. Evie took a deep breath. She hoped James was resting easier than she was. He had earned it with everything he had done for her – intentional or not – that evening.

She stepped out onto the rooftop, letting the wind wash away some of the lingering fear from her dream. It wasn’t the cold, dry whispers of terrifying possibility, but the humid, warm scent of potted citrus trees, climbing vines, and the faint, mixed odors of the river and New York sanitation collection practices. To the right of the elevator and the stairwell access was a lounge area sheltered by slatted teak screens covered in wisteria. The heavy purple clumps of flowers and delicate green leaves concealed most of the seating from concrete walls and the helipad further out at the edge of the roof. It had been part of the tour Darcy had given her months ago, although the scene in August was far different from that day in the dead of winter. The iconic New York skyline dominated the view. Closer in, softly glowing accent lights illuminated white cushions and wide-armed furniture designed to withstand vigorous use or deceptively heavy superheroes. She brushed her fingers along the expensive fabric and practiced the mantra Dr. Braithwaite had insisted on.

_I am safe._

_I am safe. What happened was not my fault._

_I am safe. What happened was not my fault. I am not to blame for the actions of others._

Evie snorted, unable to continue. This was the problem with psychiatrists. They believed talking about a problem solved it. As if saying something could make it true.

“Wish in one hand and spit in the other,” she murmured to herself.

“That’s not quite the way I heard it.”

Evie almost jumped out of her skin, spinning on one foot to face the voice in the darkness. “ _Pendejo_!” Her heart was racing, and for a moment her mind split apart.

_Sixteen steps to the elevator. Nineteen to the stair access._

_Arrancaré el puto hígado de ese pulpo antes de dejar que me lleven._

_Think. This is a secure area. Friday is watching._

“Sorry.” James stepped out of the shadows near the edge of the roof. His mouth was twisted into a scowl made more intimidating by thick, dark scruff on his jaw. He still wore his jeans from dinner, but his jacket and vest had been discarded and the shirt untucked. His sleeves were folded up, exposing his forearms. He hadn’t been to bed yet.

_Nice loophole, Friday._

“No,” she gasped out, then forced herself to take a deeper, even breath. “No, it’s fine. I overreacted.” Evie tried to smile, but her face was stiff. She couldn’t help thinking of those small shapes in her nightmare. Reaching for her. Begging for help. Circling her like prey.

“My fault. Not yours.” His tone was gruff and clipped – a sharp contrast to their evening out.

Evie looked at him more closely. His hair was loose and shiny, as if he had run his hands through it multiple times. The corners of his eyes were pinched and tight, his posture tense. She noted the shoulder holster that secured a handgun under his arm. She was sure it wasn’t the only weapon he had on his person. He had made a difficult situation easier for her, perhaps she could return the favor.

“Trouble sleeping, J- Sergeant?” Evie moved slowly to the nearest seating, a couch deep enough that if she scooted all the way back her feet wouldn’t touch the floor. James did not move right away. She was patient, keeping her expression pleasant and professional while he made up his mind.

“Don’t need much,” he finally replied. Despite his unyielding body language, he moved with the powerful grace that she had come to expect from him. His eyes flicked over all of the available seats before he settled into the other end of her sofa. She doubted it had anything to do with her proximity; more likely it was because the location put him closest to the stairs and elevator. “You need the rest, though.”

Her hackles went up. She knew she needed rest. She was a doctor, and moreover, she was _fucking exhausted_. Of course she needed rest. She just didn’t need anyone else to bring up the obvious. Forcibly reminding herself that he had done nothing but try to help her – and that of all of the people in the Tower he was one of the least intrusive and annoying about it – Evie exhaled and purposefully toed off her shoes. Having her feet bare to the warm air immediately made her feel more relaxed.

“As I am sure you are aware, Sergeant, needing and having are two entirely different things.”

He made a sound of agreement. Or maybe just acknowledgment. It might have been a grunt.

They sat in silence that gradually became comfortable. Then bordered on companionable. Evie pulled her feet up onto the sofa, leaning her head back against the cushions. He seemed to relax as well. His frown eased. He lay his metal arm along the back of the furniture, exposing his pistol and a glimpse of short-bladed, flat knives where the hem of his shirt hitched up. The flesh of his waist was pale under the strap of his weapon holster and disturbingly lean. Evie recalled how he had finished off the appetizers after everyone else was done, methodically cleaned his plate at dinner, and still eaten enough rich cake to make her feel impressed he hadn’t gotten sick. She could hazard an educated guess as to his caloric needs, and it was clear, _again_ , that he wasn’t meeting them. Self-performed medical care, a diet of vienna sausages and fruit, and less sleep than he needed – regardless of what he claimed, was not a recipe for good health.

If he ruined her hard work in taking out that bullet by running himself down, she would be professionally offended.

“If there is anything I can do for you, Sergeant...” Evie hesitated when he turned his eyes on her. The blue was dark in the soft lighting and his scowl had ratcheted back down to irritation with a side of frustration. “I feel like I owe you. Tonight could have been much more difficult for me...thank you for making it easier.”

He looked at her, just looked, for nearly a minute before his mouth twisted and he said something she wasn’t expecting.

“What happened to James?”

For a brief moment, she wondered if he was disassociating. Then common sense kicked in. An unwanted heat rose on her face.

“I’m sorry I...well...” She wasn’t sure how to explain that using his first name reminded her of her hands in his pants and how his inebriated words had exposed things about himself he might rather had remained private. She finished weakly, “Would you prefer James?”

“If I can call you Evelyn.”

She blinked. No one called her Evelyn. Not even Pops; she had always been Evie until she was in enormous, _congratulations-you’ll-be-cleaning-the-chicken-shed_ trouble and then she had been Miss Vivas – never Evelyn. James looked completely serious and not as all as if it was unusual to exchange names months after meeting someone. Maybe it hadn’t been, when he had learned to introduce himself.

“Okay.”

He raised one eyebrow, his mouth still slightly down turned, and stared at her expectantly. Evie fought back an exasperated smile.

“Okay, _James_.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Evelyn.” He put emphasis on the syllables in a way she hadn’t heard before. She liked it. “Security is what they pay me for.”

“I don’t think making jokes and staring down clueless men is on the job description.” She smiled fully at him, leaning to rest her elbow on the arm of the sofa and twist her body to face him. Despite the warm air, her feet were still a little cold, so she tucked her toes down between the cushions.

“You’d be surprised.”

“Still. If there is anything I can do for you...”

He opened his mouth, then closed it with a scowl. Evie waited patiently, having realized in the past few weeks that it probably wasn’t directed precisely at her. James scowled to convey most emotions. Angry? Scowl. Irritated? Scowl. Hungry? Scowl. Trying not to laugh at Darcy’s fantastically told epic of maternity bra shopping? Scowl. His smiles were few and far between. Which was probably for the best, given that they made him more handsome than any one person had a right to be.

“Tell me what has you up so late.” He flicked his gaze to the skyline, then all around the rooftop. She wondered if he was searching for enemies. “Or not. If anybody knows what it’s like to want to not have to talk about shit, er, things. It’s me.” He overcame his verbal stumble with a quirk of his lips, “Don’t tell Wilson I said this, but it does help. Sometimes.”

“Yes. The last thing we need is for Sam Wilson to know he is appreciated. He already gets so many accolades from everyone here, one more would put him right over the top. There’d be no living with the man.” Her flat sarcasm had him grinning, and that made her smile too.

“I like the way you do that – say stuff like that. Old fashioned, I guess. Not many people talk like that anymore. Least nobody but Steve and me and folks in nursing homes.”

She shrugged, a little self-conscious, and settled lower on the sofa. “I was raised by my Pops. My great-grandfather. He served in the Pacific Theater – the same time as you and Steve were in Europe.” She wondered for a moment if he was in a place for a joke about the war, and decided that he probably had enough people who were careful around him. “Pops always said you East Coast boys had it easy – strollin’ through Paris and getting all the limelight and the grateful ladies while he was dealing with paddy foot and malaria.”

James rolled his eyes. “Yeah. It was a real swell gig, hikin’ through the goddamn Alps and checkin’ each other for frostbite. Good times.”

Evie chuckled and prodded his knee with a bare foot. “But Parisian ladies, right?” Adrenaline was flushing out of her system, the heart-thumping fear from her dream and the surprise at finding someone else on the roof fading and leaving her loose-limbed and heavy-eyed.

“I heard stories about some of the brides the Pacific boys brought home. I don’t think there was a location-based limit on soldiers acting stupid with pretty girls. Your Pops tell you about that?”

“Pops was good and married to my Grams before he shipped out to California.” Evelyn lowered her voice and leaned up, telling it just like she had told her cousins when she was eight and it seemed scandalous, “but he had pictures of native women. Some of them didn’t wear shirts.”

“See? Takin’ pictures, James snorted. “Plenty of stupid on both oceans.” He put his right hand over her foot. Evie would have pulled away, but his skin was hot enough she nearly moaned. She was pretty sure her feet hadn’t felt truly warm in months. Instead, she pushed her other foot toward him, and he obliged her by covering them both without drawing attention to it.

“He still around, your Pops?”

“No,” Evie smiled softly at his concerned frown. “He died just after I got into med school. Aggressive lung cancer. He went quick – and he always said it was better than he deserved as much as he smoked when he was young. I still think it’s crazy that the Army gave you soldiers a tobacco ration. He held onto his pipes, but his only vices when I was little were pie and an evening can of beer.”

“Sounds like he had a good life. A good granddaughter. Great-granddaughter,” he corrected himself.

She could tell he wanted to ask, but was maybe too polite. Eive didn’t mind him knowing. Her hometown was tiny by most standards. Until she had gone to college, every person she knew was aware her mother had abandoned her. It could have been worse. Lisa could have kept Evie. “My mom got pregnant when she was fifteen. Lisa was not in a good place to have a baby – not that she wanted one in any case. Pops and Gram adopted me after Lisa took off from the hospital.”

“What about her parents?”

Evie shook her head. “Pops and Gram raised Lisa. My grandparents died in a car accident right after she was born. I never understood how she hated living with them so much. I grew up in the same house, and Pops was strict, but he loved me. He took me to baseball practice and truly terrible junior high basketball games. He helped me study spelling lists and taught me how to use a miter saw and a twenty-two pistol. I guess...I had _Abuela_ , though. My dad’s mom. Weekends with her were all shopping for crazy shoes and huge family dinners and movies until midnight and Sunday mass. A lot of mass. Maybe Lisa needed an _Abuela_.” Evie slid down further, closing her eyes against the soft lights and the attentive tilt of James’ head. She wondered what growing up in Brooklyn nearly a century ago had been like – wondered, but didn’t want to press.

She was tired. The sofa was comfortable. The night air nice. And his hand was so warm.

“I dreamed about her,” she confessed quietly. There was no reason to share the details with Barnes. She hadn’t even explained to Braithewaite exactly what had happened the night thirty years in the past when Lisa had taken her – just what Evie thought pertained to her new phobias. Sarah was the only other person she had ever told. Other people had guessed – she was certain Eddie knew – but Evie had never felt like sharing that story. It made her seem stupid. Weak. And Pops had never wanted to discuss it. There was something about the night air, though. About the distant sounds of Manhattan. About the warm, wisteria and lemon scented breeze and thick cushions and James sitting so patiently with his hand on her feet.

Maybe she did need to tell someone. If talking about a problem could solve it, there would be no one less likely to be shocked or uncomfortable than James. Her experiences were nothing compared to what little she knew of his.

“It’s been years since I even thought of her, and then tonight – there she was in my head. It didn’t even make sense. Nothing like when she took me.”

His fingers wrapped around the arch of her foot, squeezing lightly, but he didn’t say anything.

“I was five. Gram had heart problems, so sometimes, when Pops had to take her to the doctor, I walked to _Abuela’s_ real estate office instead of taking the bus home. That day, Lisa pulled up to the curb as soon as I was out of sight of the school.” Evie felt the old, self-deprecating smile stretching her mouth at the memory of how dumb she had been. “I didn’t see her very often – just when she came to ask Gram for money. Maybe a couple of times a year. But I had a picture of her, so I knew her. She had pink streaks in her hair. I thought they were cool. Lisa said we could go get ice cream, and then she’d take me home. It was February, freezing outside. I climbed right in. Didn’t think anything about how crappy her car was, how it smelled like smoke and sweat, how Lisa looked like she hadn’t showered in a week.”

The memory came back hard. McDonald’s in the nearest big town. A chocolate shake. Lisa winking and breaking open ‘special sprinkles’ on top of the treat. Evie chuckled. Her throat felt raw as if she had been crying, but her eyes were dry.

“...it was Benadryl. Allergy medication. A couple of pills will knock a kid out cold. It’s actually pretty crazy that she didn’t kill me with how much she used.” Evie swallowed, but kept her eyes closed, playing back in her mind the jumbled images from that night. Cold. The heater didn’t work. Lights flashing by in the darkness outside the moving car. The disorientation of waking in an unfamiliar place. The musty smell of the blanket pulled around her. A hand reaching through the open door. She had been trapped, wrapped up too tightly to move away.

“He was an undercover cop in Denver. Detective Davies. He was supposed to be working the local drug community to bring down a bigger supplier, but he blew his cover for me. Arrested Lisa and carried me into the station himself. I was still kind of out of it from the drugs, but I remember sitting on a scratchy couch, drinking hot chocolate and listening to Davies get yelled at for throwing away months of work. He waited with me until my dad drove up from Fort Carson. I found out later Pops was at the hospital with Grams. She had a heart attack when they found out I was missing.”

A kindergartner didn’t realize what that level of fear and stress had done to a woman in her seventies who already had a weak heart. Evie’s smile was too sad to move more than half her mouth.

“Aside from waking up to a scary man who turned out to be fairly nice, it ended up being a fun vacation for me. My dad took me back to base housing with him – it was the first time I had visited him in Colorado – and he made scrambled eggs with cheese and orange juice for breakfast. I got to skip two days of school and play with another soldier’s kids while Dad was on duty. By the time Saturday rolled around and Pops drove to Denver to sign paperwork at the police station and come pick me up, I thought it had all been pretty great.

“Even with the nightmares – looking back it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me.”

James’ hand tightened painfully on her feet and Evie forced her eyes open to frown at him. He immediately let go, soothing the skin with a firm rub of his thumb into her arch.

“How – how can you say that?”

Evie shrugged. “Lisa never came by the house again – because she was in jail, although I didn’t know at the time – so Grams was never worried about money or hiding Lisa’s visits from Pops. Pops let me have dessert on school nights – as long as my homework and chores were done. _Abuela_ spoiled me rotten. And my dad starting coming to visit whenever he had leave. I even spent a couple of weeks on base with him every summer until he died. Kuwait, ninety-one.” The grief over her father’s death was an old one, but it still pinched her heart. She pushed past it, trying to get back on track and answer James’ original question. Exhaustion was catching up to her and combining with something else, an emptiness, where the crumbled up old rotten secret of what her mother had done had been hidden away for years. Her brain felt soft and blurry, her eyes gritty, her tongue loose and liable to push truths out of her mouth that maybe would be better left hidden.

Or maybe needed to be said.

“That’s what has me up tonight. God, I haven’t thought about her in years. Not since Eddie notified me that she had checked in to a clinic in Nevada in 2014. And now I wake up from dreams of horrifying experiments and Sodhi pushing toddlers into this terrifying dentist chair with wires all over it, calling me the mother of HYDRA, and the worst of it is that I’m so fucking cold because apparently I can’t stand a blanket again. I thought I got over that when I was nine, but here I am, for no real reason, thinking about only the worst ninety seconds of my life in the backseat of a shitty car in February in Colorado.” She huffed out a breath like a block of lead had been placed on her chest. “As if seeing the unborn experiments I could bring in to this world calling out for help while they are tortured isn’t bad enough, now I have to hear Lisa in my dreams too. So I can feel guilty twice over.”

James didn’t move any closer, but he turned to face her fully, his metal hand braced against the sofa – flexing and shifting ominously. His jaw was set, his shoulders tensed. It might have been a trick of the light, but his eyes looked wet.

“You ain’t got a fuckin’ thing to feel guilty for. Not for bein’ a kid who trusted a parent, and sure as shit not for what HYDRA wanted from you.” He made a sound low in his throat. A snarl, or a choked word. She would have flinched, but it wasn’t directed at her. “You...what you did...next time you dream about those – my kids-” He made the sound again, and it was definitely more sob than growl. “They should be thanking you, the way I’m thanking you – right now. Ya already helped ‘em. Helped me. By making sure they never were, never will be. Not the way HYDRA wanted.” He snorted and turned away. His metal hand was shaking as he brushed his hair out of his face and swiped across his eyes.

“You risked your neck. S _mel_ _yy_ _krasavitsa._ Took a damn stupid, reckless risk to keep those bastards from getting what they wanted. From using me again – who knows how many fucking times and I wouldn’t have known – Christ.” He sucked in air noisily. His flesh hand patted the tops of her feet, stroked down her shins absently. The gentle touch was a sharp contrast to his harsh tone. “Don’t you think for a goddamn second that you have any right to feel guilty. I’m telling ya, ya don’t got that right. Not about shit that didn’t happen, that you didn’t want to happen, and sure as hell not about saving lives.” He faced her again, his scowl firmly in place once more, and this time clearly directed at her. “Next time you dream about _my_ kids, you tell those little snotrags to treat a lady respectful or their da will hear about it.”

Evie blinked. She couldn't quite believe that he could forgive her so easily, but there was no room for doubt in his expression. “Anything else?”

“Yeah.” He followed it up with something guttural and sharp, Russian she guessed, but too low to make out. “Tell them I’m coming.”

Evie believed him. He had been there for her, outside the HYDRA base, the first solidly real thing she had believed in for weeks. He had taken her out of there, kept her safe, calmed her down and done nothing but help her in his grumpy, calculated way.

“I’ll try to remember that.”

Silence returned. It was less companionable and more intimate. An absence of subtle distances and vague mistruths. The night was weightier than it had been, but in a comforting way. A soothing balm over exposed tender vulnerabilities. His hand was warm through the silk of her pajamas, brushing down her shin and over one foot, to the other, then up that leg before starting over again. The smell of wisteria and lemons settled in her lungs, urging her to breathe deeply, slowly. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady rhythm of James’ lungs.

She fell asleep thinking about how Sodhi had hoped the Winter Soldier would come to HYDRA once he found out about his children.

The man had been an idiot.

 

 

* _Arrancaré el puto hígado de ese pulpo antes de dejar que me lleven. -_ _I will claw out that octopus’s liver before I let them take me._

_smel_ _yy_ _krasavitsa_ – _bold beautiful woman_


	13. Sinister Kid

**August 20, 2017**

 

 

He watched her sleep.

In sleep, Evelyn’s face relaxed and Barnes was reminded again of how much stress she had been carrying. The tension in her jaw eased and the tightness around her eyes smoothed away. It felt intimate to watch her, more so than even their position on the sofa with her bare feet in his lap. Just a yard away, he could make out the fine laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and the beginnings of a wrinkle across her forehead that was usually concealed with makeup. One side of her mouth was more deeply bracketed than the other, as if she smirked more often than she smiled. Her lashes were almost black and thick, but not particularly long. They matched the dark, neatly groomed wings of her eyebrows. His flesh hand itched to trace that arch, follow it down her temple to the hinge of her jaw and the long muscle of her neck.

_She bent her head to the side, exposing her vulnerable jugular, and smiled uncomfortably at Braxton’s flattery._

“ _No, really. You look fantastic,” the young doctor flirted as they were all lead to their table. “Don’t hold back. Tell me, Pilates? Yoga? Maybe you could swing by my gym while you’re in town and give me a few tips.”_

“ _I have a good trainer,” she demurred. Barnes held her chair for her. Evelyn’s honey eyes caught Barnes’ gaze. The corner of her mouth tilted up. “If you asked nicely maybe he’d share his workout.”_

_Barnes scowled at Braxton, who swallowed hard behind his fixed smile._

“ _Ooo,” Strange blew out a low whistle. “Awkward.”_

Braxton had been an idiot. Evelyn looked good – she looked better than good – but she was still too thin. Barnes ran his eyes across the silk of her top where it puddled in the hollow of her collarbone. He should have skipped down to the curve of her waist and the jut of her hip. A gentleman would have, but he hadn’t been a gentleman for seventy years. Maybe more, if his scant memories of nights in dark alcoves of dance halls could be trusted. Her breasts were firm, the perfect fit for his hands. His metal fingers twitched along the back of the sofa and the low whir of mechanics finally helped him wrench his eyes away.

She had built up her strength since he had taken over her time in the gym. For a moment he felt guilt. She probably would have put on more weight, needed padding, if her body weren’t turning the few calories she actually ate into muscle. Still, it was better than the alternative. His flesh hand traced the scars on her heels and at the joint of her big toe. If he hadn’t put a halt to her hellish running routine, she would have progressed from vicious blisters to open sores. He hadn’t known a person could force pain like that on themselves. Not without their life at stake.

Or the Chair.

“ _How is your practice doing?” Christine asked over sea scallops and agnolotti – which it turned out was just ravioli like Mrs. Fellite used to make for him and Steve, but filled with unusual meat like roast lamb and rabbit._

“ _Oh, about what I expected.” Evelyn set down her fork, not even looking at the bite of pasta, meat, and roast vegetable. “I lost a few patients while I was out – but they all have excellent new providers.”_

“ _And at least you aren’t riddled with tumors.” Strange sipped from his wine, but his eyes were focused and sharp. Barnes was certain the man saw through Evelyn’s cover story. He was a security concern._

“ _An abundance of blessings,” Evelyn replied dryly. Barnes served another tiny portion of the seafood onto her small plate and she took the hint, finally eating. Her hum of approval sent a tremor through his gut._

She was strong. Barnes caressed her foot again, spreading some of his body heat from his hand to her skin. Not many women, not many people, could go through what she had and still makes jokes over dinner. He was impressed.

He had known she was raised by her ‘Pops’ and her ‘ _Abuela_ ’, but not why. He had known from her security check that her birth mother had spent time in several state prison systems, but not how Lisa’s drug and drug-related charges had affected Evelyn. Not until Evelyn had confided how her abduction by HYDRA had raised old nightmares. She hadn’t specified, but Barnes could guess why Lisa Martin kidnapped her own daughter. He could guess why an alcoholic and drug addict would take a kindergartner across state lines and what kind of situation would end up with Evelyn being taken into custody by an undercover police officer. She hadn’t said, but Barnes could read between the lines and he hoped that wherever Lisa Martin was she had forgotten she ever had a daughter. She certainly did not deserve a kid, much less a woman like Evelyn.

Evelyn had said she would get over her fear; she had done it before, as a child. It would just take time. He did not doubt her, but as Barnes watched her sleep it made him angry that she had to. That she couldn’t get warm at night because sleeping under a blanket probably gave her panic attacks. That her feet were always cold because wearing socks without shoes must remind her of Sodhi and the weeks she spent drugged and vulnerable.

Evelyn was a good person. Kind. Intelligent. Funny. Beautiful. Barnes didn’t deserve her anymore than Lisa Martin, but if she needed him to hold her cold feet so she could finally get some sleep, he would do that for her.

“ _So, how did become friends with Evie? At the gym?” Braxton laughed. The sound was irritating. “I can’t imagine the Winter Soldier on a treadmill!”_

“ _Ass,” Strange muttered, downing the last of his drink and pushing away his plate._

_Barnes’ eyes tracked Evelyn as she made for the restrooms. Ourada was already waiting discreetly in the hallway and would keep eyes on Evelyn while she was out of his sight. He turned his attention to Braxton._

_“Can't carry a gun on a treadmill.” Barnes stared the young doctor down._

“ _Why would- you aren’t-?” The young doctor’s eyes flicked across Barnes’ body._

_Barnes resisted the urge to let his jacket fall open and reveal his side arm. He settled for flattening his metal fingers against the table. In the full restaurant, the whir of mechanics was muted, but still audible to their party._

“ _Is it fully integrated?” Strange looked interested in the conversation for the first time that evening, staring at the vibranium plates. “Has Vivas examined the connections?”_

“ _She has looked everything over.”_

_Braxton’s jaw fell open. Christine’s eyes widened; Strange snorted. Barnes clenched his teeth. He had only meant that Evelyn knew how his arm worked, but he should have chosen his words more carefully. Or not._

_Braxton fumbled his phone out of his pocket, mumbling about a page from the hospital. If Barnes’ unintended insinuation that he and Evelyn were more than they were got rid of the annoying man, it was worth being a louse. In this day and age, her reputation wouldn’t suffer for it, and his words had been true. She_ had _seen everything. He was drugged and unconscious for it, but he had most definitely been naked in front of her._

_Braxton left. Evelyn returned. The foursome finished their entrees with pleasant conversation between the women, and friendly – if biting – commentary from Strange. It almost felt like he remembered doubles with Steve._

Evelyn murmured, shifting. Her arms stayed folded against her ribs but her lips turned down into a distressed frown. “Let go. No...won’t...” Carefully, he eased out from under her legs and knelt in front of the sofa. Her eyes were moving rapidly under the lids. Barnes brushed her braid off of her shoulder and leaned in close to her ear, murmuring some comforting nonsense sounds. His metal fingers skimmed across her forearm. He hoped to wake her gently, but she twitched suddenly. Her left hand clenched hard around his metal one, pulling his limb up to her sternum.

“James,” she breathed out. Her eyes never opened, but the tension in her body eased. She turned, facing the back of the sofa and curling around his arm, forcing him to crouch over her or pull his limb back and risk waking her. “Don’t worry,” she mumbled, her lips almost brushing against his cautiously outstretched fingers, “’s all gone. _Estás seguro. Estoy a salvo_.”

Barnes crouched awkwardly over her for a full minute, trying to process. The Spanish, as always, came to him slowly. _You’re safe. I’m safe._ Even in the midst of her nightmares, she was worried for _him_ – trying to protect _him_. _It’s just a dream_ , he tried to tell himself, _don’t mean anything but that she recognizes the arm._ It clicked for him then that perhaps she had been so comfortable with him from the beginning because of that arm. He knew what it was like to not trust your own mind – not trust the people around you. He had not been convinced HYDRA wasn’t playing him until he had watched a month’s worth of television and news programs and eaten enough stolen candy bars to kill a small elephant. Apparently, in Evelyn’s mind, there was no faking a metal arm.

Slowly, gently so as not to wake her, he eased his body onto the wide sofa behind her. It made his back itch to have it turned to the open skyline. He spent several tense minutes breathing in her cinnamon shampoo and reminding himself that there were only two good nests that could possibly hit his current location, and both were monitored by his illegal cameras. Thick vines on the arbor concealed them both from aerial surveillance. Friday was monitoring the perimeter. He called himself an idiot for laying out in the open. Called himself worse for snuggling up to a woman like Evelyn – snuggling up to any woman without her permission.

Then she pressed back, bracing her whole body against him. In a single breath her muscles relaxed, going limp and boneless in the warm niche between the sofa back and his chest. She maintained her hold on his arm. Gradually, Barnes relaxed as well, adjusting until his gun wasn’t digging into his ribs. Evelyn was tall, fitting almost perfectly against him. The iciness of her toes seeped through denim to his shins. He trapped her feet between his right shin and his left calf. His flesh arm he curled under their heads, and tipped his forehead against her hair. Silk slipped and slid, exposing the joint between shoulder and neck and releasing the faint scent of chocolate from her skin.

“ _You’re sure you wouldn’t rather head back?” Evelyn was offering a polite out, but he had seen her eyeing the dessert menu earlier, and she deserved something sweet. The server was hovering hopefully –_ with the prices in this joint kid could pay rent on the tip for dessert alone _– but Barnes mostly ignored him to focus on the woman at his side._

“ _I’ve been thinking about chocolate cake for hours,” he replied. Only after the words were out of his mouth did he consider that she might take offense. Thankfully, she smiled. It was the sexiest, most promising grin he could remember ever being aimed his way. He was so stunned he didn’t even hear her order._

“ _And for you, sir?”_

_He got the cake. When it came out, he saw that she had requested the same. The slices were small as hell, but served with rich, dark chocolate frosting and ice cream that reminded him of soda fountains and red lipstick on a white straw. The sound she made over her first bite was quiet, appreciative, and thick with sin._

_Evelyn deserved something sweet, but Barnes sure as hell didn’t deserve to watch her eat it._

He had almost asked her out – when she suggested she owed him a favor. It had been on the tip of his tongue to say that dinner alone together would be payment enough. He had suppressed the urge to try and charm her, wanting her to _want_ to spend time with him – not do so out of some harebrained obligation. That had been why he had gone up on the roof and run perimeter checks after one of the nicest evenings he had ever had – arrogant wizards and skirt-sniffing doctors notwithstanding. He needed the time to figure out how to make Evelyn see him as more than a patient or a security guard.

She made an odd, snorting, snoring sound and tensed up. Barnes squeezed her more firmly, pulling her back into his chest and tipping her head to lay on his flesh bicep. She pressed her cheek against him with a sigh, almost burrowing into him as if seeking his heat.

Barnes didn’t deserve Evelyn Vivas. But if he could give her even a fraction of what she did deserve, he would.

The sun was fully up, the rooftop patio bright in the morning light, when he woke. For a brief second he tensed, his hands fisting while the rest of him lay still as he took in his surroundings.

 _ _Given date and solar angle, approximate time: ten hundred hours.__ __Immediately__ __a__ _ _ccessible__ __lethal__ __weapons__ _:_ _ _four__ _._ _ _Possible__ __improvised__ __weapons__ _:_ _ _multiple__ _._ __No__ __potential__ __threats in immediate area. One ally. Medical Resource Vivas.__

She was still asleep.

Evelyn had turned during the night to face him. Her breath was warm and moist against his neck. Her fingers were tucked between his vest and shirt, curled against his chest. Barnes became abruptly aware of his own hands. His right was under their heads, his hand gripping the wooden arm of the sofa hard enough that it had cracked. His left arm was parallel to her spine. The sensors in his hand registered his tight hold on her braid, wrapping it over his palm and around his knuckles until his thumb could press against the base of her skull. He was equally horrified that he had immobilized her, and surprised that he hadn’t applied damaging pressure when he woke so suddenly.

With all the stealth that had been trained into him, he untangled his hand from her hair and extracted her fingers from his clothes. He eased off the sofa to kneel on the ground. He was about to pull his right arm from under her head when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Swiftly, he removed it and checked the message.

_SR: ETA 5 min. Meet in lobby?_

_Der’mo._ He was supposed to run with Steve and Wilson – and if he didn’t show up one or both of them would come looking for him. He considered for a split second leaving Evelyn alone. He could request that Friday keep the access locked down until she woke. He immediately discarded the idea. There was no way he was leaving her asleep, vulnerable and in an unfamiliar location. He carefully thumbed out a response to Steve.

_Give me 10._

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Barnes adjusted his stance and eased his metal arm under her thighs. He held his breath as he picked her up, but she only sighed and pressed her nose into his shoulder. One of her hands went right back to his vest, rubbing against the scar tissue under his shirt as she found purchase.

He had ignored the subtle stiffness in his pants as fairly usual upon waking, but the firm caress against those sensitive ridges of old wounds brought it painfully to his attention. No more than you deserve, he reprimanded himself as he carried her to the elevator. He had only to glance at the camera and Friday opened the doors for him. Cozying up to a proper lady and pressing yourself against things you got no goddamn right to press against ya louse. He had earned a few minutes of unrelieved discomfort. Friday lit up the number of Evelyn’s floor, but the car didn’t start moving until Barnes nodded at the camera. He stalked as quickly as possible down her hallway, hoping Wilson was already waiting downstairs for Steve and wouldn’t leave his apartment while Barnes was holding Evelyn.

Friday proved herself both helpful and discreet again when she not only unlocked, but opened Evelyn’s door for him. Barnes toed it closed quietly and crossed the small studio to the unmade bed. Blankets were folded neatly in a chair, the top sheet laid back smoothly at the foot and out of the way. He had to spend nearly a minute working his arms away from her without waking her, but he managed to make it back to his own apartment without being seen with three minutes to spare.

Barnes left his clothes and weapons in an untidy pile on the floor and pulled on shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. His boots were changed for athletic socks and running shoes, and he was in the elevator on his way to the lobby just two minutes behind schedule. Wilson was already there, stretching while Steve talked. Barnes didn’t bother with the pretense of warming up – the pace Wilson preferred was good enough for that. Instead he stepped outside and hoped the other two men would follow without comment. It was too optimistic of him.

“Stay up late, sleeping beauty?” Steve asked as they turned north.

“Whoo, must have been some date. She stay over or did you stick your head out the window this morning?”

Reflexively, Barnes ran his fingers through his hair. It was smooth and already lying down. Wilson laughed, having caught him. The man dropped it after that, and for once Barnes was thankful for his training as a counselor. Wilson knew when to let something lie...most of the time. Steve on the other hand was obviously lying in wait. Barnes gritted his teeth, but when they left Wilson behind after mile three to pick up the rolls and donuts. _Might as well get it over with._

“Well?” he barked. “Got something on your mind, punk?”

“You seem well rested.” Steve was practically glowing with happiness, but he had a point. Barnes did feel unusually good. It didn’t take him long to figure out why.

“Fell asleep around five up on the roof. Woke up just before you texted.”

“What were you doing on the roof?” Steve slowed, turning to face Barnes with a frown of concern on his face. He thought the perpetual perimeter checks – particularly alone at night – where a bad sign. Barnes was eager to have that discussion again.

“Talking with the Doc. She was havin’ trouble sleeping.”

“Talkin’, huh? And you fell asleep on the lady? Where are your manners, ya jerk?”

“She fell asleep first,” he defended himself. Almost immediately, he realized his mistake. In avoiding one lecture he had walked right into Steve’s trap. The taller man grinned.

“So you slept together. For shame, James Barnes. What would your mother say?”

“Say that again where anyone can hear you and Darcy’ll have to find a way to kiss your mouth when it’s on the other side of your head.” Steve was his friend, but there was still a line. “She’s been exhausted. We talked. She fell asleep. It didn’t feel right to leave her by herself up there. End of story.”

"You were alone in the same place as Evie. On purpose. For seven hours."

"Ain't like that Steve."

"Did you touch her?"

"What the fuck do you think-"

"Jesus, Buck. Calm down. You hold hands? Put your arm around her shoulder? Anything?"

Barnes didn't answer. Unfortunately, he didn't have to. The punk knew him too well.

Steve grinned. "That definitely counts as a date. If you don't believe me, we can ask the expert. I can call-"

"Fine! Whatever." Barnes huffed out a breath and picked up his pace so he wouldn't have to look at Steve's stupid mug. "Just don't bring Darcy into this. Goddammit. I thought we were friends."

"Guess your memory is a little hazy."

"Asshole." He shoved Steve hard enough that the blond skipped over the curb, stepping into the gutter and getting smelly rain water-garbage soup all over his shoes. It was a small comfort.

 

 __*Der’mo –_ _ __Shit._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these three men together. They deserve each other.


	14. Raised on the Devil's Backbone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now we're moving along. 
> 
> Is it a date, is it not a date? What would Darcy say?

**August 20, 2017**

 

Evie had finally developed a plan. It had taken a three mile run on the treadmill, a hot shower, a debate with two different internal dialogues, medication, and several hours of mindless publication editing, and an overdue call to Sarah, but she had come to several conclusions.

_1) James Barnes is a good man._

He was, perhaps, the best person she had ever known. Beneath his scowls and gruff words and hard silences he was funny, and thoughtful, and selfless. It was the selflessness that hit her the hardest. If anyone deserved to be selfish, to do nothing but what was best for themselves and to tell the rest of the world to go to hell, it was James Barnes. But he had still made her laugh so she wouldn’t be nervous about a simple car ride. He had gone to a dinner he obviously did not want to attend to keep her safe – when anyone could have been assigned the job. Evie knew because she had checked with Friday. There were a half-dozen SI security guards and Yinsen employees who could have taken his place. He ignored his own bed – which Evie was certain he didn’t see enough of – to listen to her paltry problems. To comfort her. He had stayed with her while she slept. He even carried her back to her own room.

And he forgave her. There was no mistaking how honest and intentional his forgiveness was. He had thanked her – like it was nothing – no, not nothing, like she had done something for him that he would never have expected of anyone. Like she had done everything for him.

James Barnes was a good man.

_2) Sleep is easier when you’re warm._

Since Evie still couldn’t make herself use a blanket or even wear socks to bed, a few shivering hours was generally all she got at one time. It turned out that having a radiator pressed up against her skin was better than any duvet, and safety-wise, a super-soldier was less likely to start the mattress on fire than a space heater and far more likely to keep nightmares at bay.

Nightmares – not dreams. Dreams were a pleasant change of pace. She had woken up shortly after ten in the morning with the image of James licking chocolate ganache off of his full lower lip still drifting in her mind. As far as REM narratives went, she much preferred deliciously red lips that melted from scowl to open-mouthed pleasure as opposed to horrific operating theaters and tortured children. If she had the choice between warm, restful sleep with mildly erotic dessert consumption and sudden, exhausted terror she would choose the sleep.

And sleep was easier when she was warm.

_3) You like him._

As much as she had more than once wanted to deck James with all the fury her misplaced anger could generate, it was just that – misplaced. She knew that. And when she was in her right mind – which admittedly was less than it used to be – she liked the way he never asked, but he listened. And when she talked he heard her without sympathy or platitudes or insipid solutions but only blunt honesty. He didn’t treat her gently. _Aside from the way he offers his arm, or lets his hand hover at the base of your spine, or smooths his warm palm over your feet in a kneading, firm motion that was warm and relaxing and more than a little-_ He pushed her during her workout. He never suggested that perhaps she should stay inside, or make an appointment with Braithewaite, or spend less time in her office or the lab.

He was funny. He teased Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. He endured Darcy’s...he endured Darcy with a scowl, but then would slyly egg her on when her craziness would flag. He had been convincingly denying any knowledge of a missing toaster for months. Evie had heard Tony complain about it more than once, but she still didn’t know why it was an issue. And yet, she had personally watched him stand in the corridor between her borrowed lab space and Tony’s workshop with an extremely toaster-shaped package under his arm, have a short conversation with Friday, and then enter without authorization. When he left again he had given her a nod and a twist of his lips – but his arms were empty.

He enjoyed his food. Not eating mindlessly, not choosing pretentiously, but he truly appreciated a good meal and was open about his opinions. Evie might have had a spiritual moment watching his eyelashes flutter closed when he took his first bite of malt ice cream. _Spiritual like the Ecstasy of Saint Theresa_ , Evie snorted to herself.

Which brought to mind that it wasn’t just his taciturn personality she liked. It was also the way his thermal shirts pulled tight across his shoulders and how his back flexed when he crossed his arms. And his arms. And his chest. She had been careful not to touch his scar tissue while he was incapacitated – some people had less feeling on old wounds, while some had extreme sensitivity. But six pages into her editing that afternoon she had found herself staring at the open doorway to her office, daydreaming about following those ropes of tissues down across his _pectoralis major_ , to the _abdominal head_ , around to the _external oblique_ – tracing the too prominent ridges of his ribs and then _rectus abdominis_ with her fingers. Then her tongue.

She had been in the SI clinic, working out a schedule to add herself to occasional rotations, when he came in with a small group of security personnel. Their had eyes met, and he had nodded in her direction, but continued talking to his group. It was a quick tour, and then he was gone again. Evie missed the chance to speak with him – but the view of his black cargo pants stretched across _gluteus maximus_ and _biceps femoris_ made up for a great deal.

She liked him.

_4) He is interested in you._

Evie hadn’t been with many men. Her upbringing was strict and her hometown small. After eliminating boys her age that were related to her, the available pool was minuscule. Then there was college and the pressure not to lose her scholarship combined with a lot of weekends home to visit Pops when he was sick and part-time jobs. Then med school and more work. Residency. Trying to start a research career while putting in enough hours to pay for her student loans and the outrageous rent in Los Angeles. It had not left a lot of time for dating. The few sexual partners in her past were mostly matter of convenience and stress relief – on both their parts. That did not mean she couldn’t read signals.

He looked. Even before she had seen him naked and his suddenly loose lips had flattered her figure, she had noticed him looking. There was nothing wrong with admiring, especially with such discretion, and she did her own fair share of that. But he never took it further, never so much as indicated that he would consider speaking with her, much less be interested in coffee or ‘coffee’. That had changed. He was friendly with her now – as friendly as he was with almost anyone, and he definitely had more than a passing appreciation for her aesthetics.

Evie had watched the security footage from the rooftop. At first, just to figure out how she got back to her room. As the tape rolled, she had been mortified for falling asleep on him, horrified that she latched on to his arm during her nightmare, and then...the way he hesitated, the way he curled around her, trying so carefully not to wake her...Evie wasn’t sure she had ever before been embarrassed and turned on at the same time. He was clearly turned on too. When he had woken and rolled off of the sofa, his admiration for her body was evident. She would have had to of been blind not to see how his appreciation grew when he held her. His expression got softer, easier. The opposite happened to the front of his pants.

James Barnes was interested in her.

A good man, whom she liked both waking and sleeping, was interested in her. Despite her less than outgoing personality and, oh yeah, torture induced psychosis, he was actually interested in her. She wasn’t sure she had much to offer in a relationship – less now than ever before, but she recognized that she needed to connect with someone. She _wanted_ to be close to someone. Specifically, James. Surprising though it may be, it felt good to be with him. Even when he was infuriating her, she still would rather eat a dry protein bar with him than dine at a Michelin Star restaurant with anyone else.

Evie put the pieces together. She read the signals and came up with a simple answer: James Barnes was shy. It was a strange, but oddly appropriate concept. Who wouldn’t be a bit awkward after having their social interactions completely sublimated for seven decades? Evie could work with shy.

By six o’clock, eight hours after waking refreshed and smelling vaguely of men’s deodorant, she had a game plan. An order had been placed with the AI and was delivered to her apartment. Evie showered quickly and redressed in jeans and a cami. She needed to approach him, give him opportunities to realize she was interested as well and the chance to reciprocate privately. _That won’t be a hardship._

With Friday’s help, she located James at Yinsen, where he was in a meeting with Natasha. Darcy was preparing to leave for the night. Evie walked as swiftly as she could through the offices, but her phone vibrated with Friday’s signal just as Darcy exited, her overstuffed tote bag on her arm.

“Evie, hey! Did you get a chance to look over those-”

She seized Darcy’s elbow and hissed, “I am about to throw you under a bus. Please, lie down and take it like a man.” Her eyes cut to the door of the conference room, where two shadows were standing, moving against the glass.

Darcy didn’t miss a beat. “A favor to be named at a future date.”

“Done.”

The door swung open and Evie schooled her features into a something she hoped looked disappointed.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Um, yes?” Darcy smiled apologetically, flicking her gaze to Natasha as she stepped out into the main office. Evie congratulated herself on coming up with a plan that did not rely on Darcy’s ability to lie. Darcy was a terrible liar.

“That’s okay. We can always reschedule dinner. Let me know when and I’ll reorder the groceries.” She tucked her arm through Darcy’s and pulled the shorter woman toward the exit, doing her best to ignore the few office workers who were still at their desks and the two Avengers not even trying to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping. “Now I just need to find a way to use Steve-sized portions of strawberry spinach salad and cucumber-yogurt salmon. Fresh fish doesn’t keep very well. And borrow some pans.”

“Ooooh,” Darcy moaned in a way that made Evie uncomfortable on behalf of the woman’s employees – all of whom seemed to suddenly remember tasks that required them to be elsewhere. “That sounds so good. I’m starving.” She bit her lip. “But Steve already texted that he started dinner. Tony and Pepper are home, maybe -”

“Pepper is allergic to strawberries,” Natasha smoothly inserted herself into the conversation. Evie smiled at the spy, who offered a raised eyebrow and a smile of her own. Darcy was correct. It was eerie how the woman seemed to always know what was going on. At least she seemed to be on Evie’s side, seeing as Evie knew that Extremis had cured Pepper of any allergies and she was certain Natasha knew it too.

“I would love to join you,” the redhead continued, looking genuinely disappointed, “but I have to pick up some cellulose fiber and the store closes soon.”

Evie didn’t know what to say to that. Darcy looked equally confused.

“ _Zvukoizolyatsiya dlya doprosov_ _?_ ” Barnes questioned softly. Whatever he had said, Natasha found it amusing.

She smiled widely, and responded in Russian with something that sounded like, ‘shins silly’, which was probably not what she meant. James scowled at her in way that could have been irritation or confusion. Evie would have bet on both. Natasha switched to English. “If you need culinary equipment, I’m sure Barnes could lend you more than enough. I think Steve bought one of everything when he moved in.”

Evie turned her face to him, practicing her breathing techniques so no one would realize how eager she was for his answer. His mouth moved as if he was chewing on his own words. His scowl deepened.

“ _Navyazchivyy rebenok_ ,” he muttered. He cleared his throat and met Evie’s gaze. “Whatever you need, Doc. You’re welcome to just use my place so you don’t have to haul anything. I’ll clear out for a while.”

That was not what she had in mind.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly-”

Natasha snorted softly but Evie ignored it, focusing instead on the steely blue eyes she had come to expect to see each day.

“-impose. Unless you’d be willing to eat with me? I have more than enough – the leftovers would go bad before I could get through it all by myself.”

Natasha turned and headed back to her office, as if the outcome interested her not in the least. Darcy made no effort to hide her rapt attention.

“I could eat.” James closed his eyes for a long moment and compressed his mouth into a thin line. Evie tried not to stare at the length of his dark lashes. When he opened them again, his scowl had eased and he even managed a small smile. “With cooking as good as yours, how could I refuse? Need help bringing anything up?”

Evie offered her own nod and smile, thinking to herself that Sarah deserved a thank you text for her pep talk earlier in the day.

_“It’s just...it’s been complicated. For me. I’m not sure I’m ready. And he might not-”_

_“When’s ready?” Sarah had interrupted. Evie could picture her, standing at her workbench, smelling of mint and herbs and bath salts. The phone couldn’t properly convey the loving exasperation that Evie knew would be portrayed by raised arms and disbelieving eyebrows. “There is never a right time, Eve. Take it from me. You wait, and you wait, hoping that everything will settle into this perfect moment? What happens is you lose your chance. There is no perfect moment. There is only now, or never. It will always be a chance, and if you play the odds to stay safe you won’t ever get anywhere.”_

As she left Yinsen with a couple of hundred pounds of brooding muscle following behind her, a frisson ran down her spine. For the first time in what felt like a a long time, it wasn’t fear – but excitement.

 

 

 

_*_ _ Zvukoizolyatsiya dlya doprosov  _ _– interrogation soundproofing_

_Navyazchivyy rebenok – meddlesome child_


	15. Prolonging the Magic

**August 20, 2017**

 

Barnes waited in the entryway to Ev elyn’s apartment while she gathered up ingredients for dinner and put them into one of those reusable  grocery bags. He felt like an idiot. 

_“ I could eat.” Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? _

He had been caught off guard. Which was not really an excuse. He was a soldier, a sniper. A goddamn killing machine. He should never be off guard. Except that he was. With Evelyn, he seemed to be constantly trying to readjust, to find his balance. A year or two ago and that would have irritated the piss out of him, or at worst, driven him crazy. But aside from how he spent hours deciding what to say, how to behave, planning the best approach and then having it all blow away like smoke from a muzzle, he found himself sort of enjoying it.  Sort of, because he still hadn’t asked the woman out and he felt more at a loss for charming words that Steve in’38. Maybe ‘39 too.

But then Evelyn bent over to get something out of her freezer and Barnes was reminded that no plan survives the enemy and the hallmark of a good strategist was the ability to think on the move.

Whatever fashion nut had decided that denim should be tight enough to look painted on deserved a fucking medal.  Thanks to Darcy, Barnes had a few collecting dust in his closet that he would be happy to give away if it kept Evelyn wearing what amounted to thin blue cotton tights over the most gorgeous set of legs he had ever seen. She shut her freezer with a bump of her knee and turned gracefully on one shoe. Other than trainers, Evelyn almost always wore heels and Barnes appreciated it but these new flat shoes were nice too. He liked the floral pattern in shades of pink and the scalloped edge of her little leather slippers. Modern women wore them all the time and he hadn’t thought anything about it, but on Evelyn they were feminine and sexy and put her at just the right height for him to have to dip his head to kiss her. Not that he would be kissing her anytime soon. They hadn’t even gone on a date yet, but once he started he couldn’t not think about  how she was tall enough that he wouldn’t have to hold her up to get his mouth on that pale raspberry lip. His hands would be free to touch and – 

Barnes ripped his eyes away from her feet. _Holy Mary, Mother of God._ He had to shift his weight to relieve a sudden tightness in his pants. From looking at her goddamned shoes. What the hell was he going to do if she -

Evelyn reached up for a  canister on the top shelf and the movement pulled up the hem of her shirt.  Shirt ?  _That little silk and lace is an undergarment or you’re a fucking saint, James Buchanan Barnes._ The hem rose, and rose, and rose. Four inches of smooth golden skin between her waistband and her first rib were exposed and h e couldn’t look away . Imagining his hand there. His mouth. His tongue. He wondered if she was ticklish. He wondered how it would feel to wrap his palm around the curve of her waist and hold her still while he leaned over her bare back and kissed the column of her throat.

_Nine millimeter Luger, one hundred fifteen grain metal jacket ammunition, eight-point-five inches of penetration. Seven-point-six-five millimeter Luger, ninety-three grain metal jacket ammunition, nine-point-five inches of penetration. Forty-four Magnum, two hundred-forty grain solid lead ammunition, banned for military use, eleven inches of penetration and maximum diameter upon impact._

No amount of mental distraction was going to help him. Evelyn pushed her loose, damp braid over her shoulder and the soft curl at the end brushed against bare skin.  _ You are completely fucked. _

“ _I zvrashchenets_,” he scolded under his breath.

“What was that?” Evelyn turned around, the dark amber glass canister in her hands. Her shirt, thank god, had settled down to cover her torso. Except for her shoulders. And the smooth skin across her breastbone. And the barest hint of firm curves that- He cleared his throat.

 “ What can I help with?”

She smiled. It lifted both sides of her mouth but didn’t expose her teeth. The expression was genuine, but it made him want more. She slipped the container into a stiff-sided grocery bag.

“Would you mind carrying this? I’d like to have two hands for the dessert.”

“Anything for dessert.” Barnes winced internally, but her smile widened and she let out a little huff of a laugh. He grabbed the bag and gestured to the door. “Ready?” 

“Yep.” 

He opened the door and resolutely kept his eyes above her head as she proceeded him down the hall. It wasn’t until they were in the elevator that he took in the large,  foil-covered dish in her hands and the massive leather bag on her arm. She noticed his raised eyebrows.

“Darcy has been bragging about Steve’s homemade eclairs. I wanted to one-up him. You have to promise that you’ll tell him how amazing this is.”

Barnes couldn’t smell anything other than sweetness from the tightly sealed pan, and it was all mixed up with the food in his bag and the fresh scent of Evelyn’s cinnamon shampoo. The chocolate in the air could have been the dessert or her skin. Either way, he was better off not thinking about it.

He gestured to a tote he had seen her take to work several times. “Just wondering if you’re moving in.” _What. The fuck. Is wrong with you?_ Evelyn didn’t seem to notice that she was standing next to the conversational  equivalent of a comfort-starved alley dog.

“Oh,” she rolled her eyes and stepped out onto his floor, waiting for him to lead the way. “Old habit. It’s not like I’m going to be called to an emergency, but I started carrying extra clothes and an emergency med kit when I was a resident and never really let it go. No one thinks twice about a woman in wrinkled sweatpants, but if you go for coffee one time splattered with blood they ask you not to leave.”

“Tell me about it.”

Evelyn laughed before he could regret anything. The rich, honey-thick sound was enough to keep him from feeling self-conscious.

“So,” he tried to keep her talking as they entered his apartment and set the supplies down in the kitchen. He figured the more she was talking, the less chance he had to make an ass of himself. It didn’t hurt that he wanted to know more about her, either. “How long were you a resident? That’s like an apprenticeship, right? And it was in New York?”

 

 

_ *  I zvrashchenets -  Pervert _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The holidays are over, and I wasted a tremendous amount of time working on a Christmas special of US that wasn't ready before the end of the year. I'm sure I'll get it posted for next Christmas. Yeah. Right.
> 
> In any case, we are back to Bucky and Evie's maybe-date. Maybe-second-date? Let's go over the rules:
> 
> 1) Intentional, voluntary time together in a private location OR in public without friends.  
> 2) Physical contact. (Darcy waggled her eyebrows as she explained it to Steve. He did not mind her ridiculous expression since she was straddling his waist. Every time she emphatically held up a finger to make another point, things jiggled. He enthusiastically encouraged it.)  
> 3) Enjoyment by all.  
> 4) A sense of deepening acquaintance, understanding, relationship, or feelings. (Steve thought there might have been more rules, but he was inspired to cut the lecture short by showing Darcy how he wanted to deepen their acquaintance.)


	16. Pretty Pink Ribbon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The knowing and unknowing flirting continues...

**August 20, 2017**

 

 

The start had been a bit rocky. Evie could admit that. Part of it, she was certain, was her fault. She may have gone overboard with her camisole. May have, because she still had trouble reading some of his non-expressions. When he hadn’t seemed to react to the lace edged silk itself – and she had been confident he would after the way he had eyed her top at dinner the night before – she decided she needed to give him a bit more incentive to come out of his shell.

Evie had never minded being tall. Seeing over crowds and being able to look overbearing men in the eye easily made up for having to shop around for longer inseams. It also meant that there were very few places in her kitchen she had trouble reaching. Except for the top most shelf. A shelf which contained a large gold metal sea-anemone that had come with the apartment and a decorative amber glass canister. If she remembered correctly, Evie had stuffed her Tower safety manual inside the day she moved in. She doubted James would ask what was inside. She took far more time than was necessary and still had to school her features when she heard him muttering behind her, but when she turned, his face was impassive again.

Apparently, temptation was not going to be a good ice breaker for the Sergeant.

Unless it was laden with calories.

He had eyed the dessert dish as if it might contain the Holy Grail. By the time the had reached his place, Evie had surmised that even if she had been completely wrong and James wasn’t interested, at least she would get the satisfaction of feeding someone who needed a good meal. Her cooking skills were rusty after a few years of living alone, but the number of times she caught him appreciatively sniffing or sticking a finger or spoon into a pot for a taste test were good for her ego. He was helpful, too. Chopping, washing, and setting the table were all done while he listened attentively.

“Why didn’t you stay in New York?” He asked as she finished plating their salmon and put another two fillets in the oven to stay warm for him.

“I wanted to do research, and the group with the most ground-breaking theories at the time was in California. I was only with them for a year before I took a different direction and ended up looking for my own grants and lab space, but it was a great experience.”

“Dr. Palmer said Strange had offered you a position with his team. He doesn’t seem like the type to take refusal well.”

Evie snorted. “Or at all.”

James looked up at her quickly, dark hair falling over his eyes. It struck her, not for the first time but perhaps the hardest – that he was really a beautiful man. Then she noticed the stiff set of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. Evie hadn’t realized she had a thing for protective posturing, but as long as it stayed private and came with pale blue eyes and a rare, deep rumble of laughter she thought she could indulge. _Who are you kidding,_ she chided herself, _you would love to indulge._

“What did he-”

“No,” Evie shook out of her own thoughts with a mildly embarrassed smile and waved him off. “He didn’t do anything. That’s the point. I tried three times to schedule a meeting with him to discuss it before I had to leave New York, which he blew off. Eventually I sent him a letter thanking him for his mentoring and refusing the position. Officially, he never accepted it.” Evie paused for dramatic effect, having told this story before and hoping that James would like it. “Technically, I think I am still listed as his surgical assistant for all of the hospitals he has privileges at. Really, I should start charging him a retainer fee.”

“He stuck his lady friend with the dinner bill, I don’t think you’d have much luck there,” James responded dryly. He took the plates from her. By the time she had returned to the table with two glasses of milk he was holding her seat out for her. Evie set down the drinks carefully before letting him scoot in her chair. In almost twenty years of dating, he was the only man to have ever done that. It felt awkward. Awkward, and oddly intimate.

“Ah, but it might irritate him enough that he would take my name off the paperwork so I would stop getting junk mail from those hospitals.” She dished them each a bowl of salad and waited for him to sit down before she started eating.

“Or he might get irritated enough to come see you in person about it. I’d appreciate it if you could keep the number of times Strange and Stark are in the same building to a minimum.”

“Afraid of the damage they’d do?”

“Afraid I’d have to go on the lam again after I beat their heads together.” His face tightened as he finished, and Evie wondered if maybe he didn’t like the reminder that he had actually beaten Tony’s head. And body. Straight into a hospital. He shoved a large bite of fish into his mouth.

“I doubt there is a court on Earth that wouldn’t rule it was justifiable. Especially with Pepper and Christine as character witnesses. You-”

James made an obscene sound that cut her off mid-sentence. His eyes closed almost completely, and she watched, entranced, as dark lashes brushed across sharp cheekbones. A smear of yogurt sauce was left on his lip, and he sucked it into his mouth. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Heat pooled low in her belly, surprising her. It had been a long time since she had been sexually interested in a man in more than a passing fantasy sort of way – and a very long time since the man had held her interest as a person. Evie was _absolutely_ certain she had never before gotten damp watching a man eat.

“Good?” Her throat felt a little dry, so she took a sip of milk.

“Forget feeding Steve.” His eyes opened and stared at her. Evie felt her heart rate increase. His pupils were slightly dilated. Given the degree and the lighting conditions, it was probably from oxytocin. The man was experiencing a natural, short-term emotional high from her food. _Empirically speaking, not the way to the heart_ , she thought, _but probably to his good graces. Maybe his pants._

His metal hand pressed flat against the table, the fingers flexing as if he wanted to reach for something.

“Steve is an undeserving punk,” he continued. “This is too good for him.” He put another large bite into his mouth. Evie tried not to stare at the way he obviously enjoyed it.

“Too good for Captain America?”

“Yep. He only eats Apple Pie, anyway.”

“Hm.” She took her own small bite. The fish was flaky and moist. The yogurt was smooth and smelled of fresh cucumbers and lemon zest. It could have used a hint more salt, but it was good. “Are you sure? I was thinking about putting together _posole_ this weekend and Darcy said-”

“Steve hates _posole.”_

“Really? What about _empanadas?”_

“Allergic.”

_“Tamales?”_

“Heartburn.”

“ _Tres Leches_ cake?”

James put down his fork carefully. Evie had taken a few bites of salad, but he had completely cleared his plate. She wondered if he had even chewed everything.

“Lactose intolerant.”

“Gee,” she said, barely keeping her amusement to a tight smirk, “that’s so sad.”

“I know,” he replied solemnly. “But he wouldn’t want our pity. He’s a proud man, Stevie.”

“Oh, I can believe that.”

“He would want us to enjoy all the things that he can’t. To live life to its fullest.”

“To have cake and eat it too?”

“Yes. _God_ _,_ yes. Evelyn,” his metal fingers flexed again and her eyes were drawn to the inches of table between her hand and his. How was it that she could be filled with more anticipation for the possibility that he might take her hand than she had experienced while getting naked with other men? “I would be happy to help you shoulder this burden.”

“Of eating cake?”

He licked his lips and nodded. Evelyn decided that if silky tops and tight pants weren’t James’ thing, she could try a different tactic. She leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the table and letting her mouth fall open just a bit. His eyes dropped from hers to the lower part of her face.

“ _Tres Leches_ cake with cinnamon?”

“Yes.”

“Or chocolate sponge with raspberry jam?”

“Mm.”

“Blueberry lemon cream?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He was smiling too, and Evelyn didn’t realize she could have so much fun with such a ridiculous seduction attempt. Or that it would turn her on so much. She leaned closer and he mirrored her.

“Hot gingerbread with fresh whipping cream, dotted with pomegranate seeds?”

“Evelyn, Steve is my best friend. He stood by me when no one else would – when no one should have.” He lowered his voice to a timber that made her thighs clench. “If you make that for him, I may have to kill him. Kill him, and take his cake.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Evelyn licked her lips. Then she remembered she was supposed to be tempting him, not thinking about how the way he said her name reminded her of all the best venial sins. Possibly a few of the more interesting mortal ones. She eased back into her seat and picked up her fork. “I suppose, if Captain America’s life on the line – the well being of a soon-to-be father – I could...stop cooking altogether.”

James groaned. Evelyn threw back her head and laughed.

“For being such a nice lady, you’re a hell of a tease,” he grumbled, but he was still smiling.

“James,” she said when she finally got herself under control, “I promise it is only in the very best of ways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As most of you know, I don't write chronologically. I've been working on some post-Thor/Stickball Extravaganza chapters and they keep getting away from me. I start writing about Barnes and I think of cake. That makes me think of Cake. Not long after I find myself singing along to Short Skirt and then Evie is sure to appear in the same scene.


	17. Bread and Butter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugo might as well have been writing the lyrics directly into Bucky's brain...

**August 20, 2017**

 

“You’re sure I can’t help?”

Ev elyn looked up at him with those big honey-colored eyes and a hint of a smile and Barnes almost suggested some things she could help him with. Instead, he reminded himself – forcibly - that he was raised with manners and even if he couldn’t quite remember the  lessons themselves, that did not mean that he wasn’t aware there was a proper way to treat a woman and it wasn’t throwing her onto his table among the remains of a charity meal and shoving his face between her legs. He wasn’t much of a gentleman, but he figured he could manage not to eat her until after he had actually asked her out.

And she accepted.

And they went on a date.

And probably not until after the date was over. Barnes shook his head, at himself but at Evelyn too. He didn’t have a great deal of confidence in his ability to make it that long. Definitely not if she kept making him laugh while her shoulders were bare and her tongue wrapped around a Spanish ‘r’ in a way that made hi s mouth water .

“You cooked, I clean,” he replied gruffly. “You want me to do something with that dessert?”

“Not until we’re ready for it.” Her voice followed him into the kitchen, and he wished he had more cover from her attention than a wood and stone island and the narrow column of pantry. _This is why kitchens were better in a n enclosed_ _room_ , he thought, _so a man had a place to adjust himself and splash cold water on his neck without looking like a sex maniac._ “You could start some coffee, though. Or hot water for tea, if you like that better. The pudding is pretty rich.”

She was watching his movements, playing with her napkin. Even as he rinsed dishes, from the corner of his eye he could see her twisting the white cotton around her fingers.  _ Now t here is something for a therapist,  _ he thought. _ Hey, Wilson, you think it’s a bad idea for me to get excited about restraints? _ No, not a chance in hell he was having that conversation. Or using restraints. 

Although...the way the cloth looked around her hand...if she wanted-

“You could start some music,” he blurted out. Then felt like an idiot. Putting on a record was not only old fashioned, but a little too romantic for a woman like Evelyn who had only fed him to get rid of food. _For Christsake._ “Or not. I’ll just finish this up.” He turned and faced the coffeepot, fiddling with the carafe and settings and listening desperately to her chair sliding across the floor and then the soft pad of her feet into the living room. 

“Any preferences?”

_ Thank god. _

“Whatever you like. Except for Springfield. Wilson thinks he’s real funny giving me that crap.” He started water boiling and found the coffee beans and the grinder Steve had purchased. It was next to a french press. Thankfully, so was the instruction manual. He read through it quickly while he listened to Evelyn.

“Oh...you were serious. Actual records.” She laughed lightly, but he could hear her flipping through his collection. “I’ve always wanted to bring mine from home, but I’ve moved around so much I worried I’d break a record or damage the player. It’s an antique.”

“Your Pops give it to you?”

“Yeah. He hated most of the music of my youth. Which – _Tiffany_ – so that’s understandable. Though he really liked  Queen...hm, you don’t have any of theirs...have you heard the _Flash Gordon_ album?”

“Uh.” He ground the beans while he thought about it. “The band sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t think so.”

“You would know if you had. Freddy Mercury is distinctive.” The smooth slide of vinyl on cardboard mixed with the brush of denim against thick carpet and he could almost see her kneeling on his floor, making herself comfortable. “What was I- oh, so Pops had my granddad’s player fixed up for my tenth birthday. The thing was made in 1968 – three speeds. He said I would appreciate the difference between good music and, I quote, ‘that garbage’ if I heard it the way it was meant to be played. He had a real thing for the _Shondells. ”_

“Steve prefers the digital stuff,” Barnes replied noncommittally. He had taken some flack from Wilson and Stark for sticking to the old format, but he really could hear the difference in compression. Steve could too, he just liked the convenience of carrying so many songs around with him.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not always sure I can hear a change in the sound of it. But I like the pageantry. Music on my phone is just background noise. Putting on a record is intentional. An activity. Wow,” she laughed again while he poured water over fresh beans and tea leaves, “let me just get all the pretentiousness out of my system now.”

“No,” he replied as he made up a tray for the coffee and tea and walked it out to the living area. Evelyn had selected a record and put it on the player. The opening notes for a Nina Simone song began and he had to force himself to stay present in the conversation.

_“ Tu pourrais rester la nuit, Sergent.” Dark skin against white sheets. Brown eyes looking up at him in the low light of a lamp. “No charge.”_

He shook his head to brush away the memory. At least it hadn’t been a violent one. 

“No,” he repeated. “I understand. When I listen to music – I want to be actually listening. Not reviewing mission footage or running. And it’s dangerous to be distracted by extraneous noise when I need to be alert to my surroundings.” Why had he said that? _Great, go ahead and remind her that you were trained to be a murdering machine and you still have trouble shutting that off. Should go over real swell._ He set down the tray with precise movements, working extra hard not to let his irritation with himself result in a crushed coffee cup or spilled sugar.

“Oh. Should I...” She stood. From the corner of his eye he watched the ease drain from her face. Her mouth and eyes tensed up, her body became more controlled than it had been all evening. He was suddenly struck with how different she had been in his apartment. And the night before, on the roof. Not the cool, professional doctor but someone more fluid and open. He wanted to kick himself for forcing her to revert to a more distant persona.

“I don’t have to have it on, while we work out, if that would suit you better, Sergeant? Or, I could schedule my time in the gym around your preferences?”

He definitely didn’t want that.

“James, please. And it doesn’t bother me. Although,” he met her eyes and gestured her toward the couch, trying for a teasing smile. He wasn’t sure it was successful. “I’m getting a little worried for your hearing. You keep your music turned up so loud when you’re on the treadmill your earbuds vibrate. I think you’re going to damage something.”

She took a seat and relaxed again. Evelyn asked about his record collection, what genres he preferred, and he found himself talking easily. She drank coffee – three sugars, while he had his usual Russian tea. After she served dessert she tried the tea as well. He thought she liked it, but he honestly couldn’t remember her reaction clearly after he put the first spoonful of pudding in his mouth. He had been expecting the thick bread pudding he remembered sharing once with Steve back when flour was too dear to throw out even stale bread. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been the custard that Stark seemed to like. Barnes had stolen a few cups. It was pretty good.

What he got was the consistency of cold ice cream and tasted like caramel. It was swirled with bits of chocolate and nuts,  and what he was pretty sure was pound cake. Evelyn only ate a tiny serving – a few mouthfuls. It was rich, but so, so good. Barnes lost a good portion of the conversation while he devoured his bowl. While he was cleaning up their dessert dishes, he was not to proud to take another heaping spoonful right out of the pan the moment her back was turned. If there was heaven on Earth,  and honestly, it’s the only divine afterlife you’ll ever see , then it was that pudding in his mouth. He couldn’t imagine anything better. 

_ Smearing it across golden skin and licking off every sticky drop. _

“May I use your bathroom?”

Barnes clenched his jaw and pressed his front up against the kitchen cabinets before he met her eyes. He gestured back toward the front door. “Down the hall to your left.” He busied himself with packing up her supplies and willed  his own body to calm down. 

_ You’re a man, not an animal _ , he chided himself and settled her spice containers back into the bag.

_A nice lady made you dinner._ She did not rip off her clothes and throw herself at you. He replaced her empty, clean fish container and adjusted the amber glass canister in the bag.

_ She is still recovering from a traumatic experience. Let her set the pace. _ Barnes frowned at the canister. He didn’t remember her taking anything out of it and wondered if she had forgotten some ingredient. Or some additional dish. Everything she made had been fantastic. Despite being completely, unfamiliarity full, he opened the top  eagerly to see what else she might have brought with her. And promptly blinked.

Barnes reached inside and pulled out a thin, bound book that was coated in plastic. On the front was lettering,  _ Stark Tower: Emergency Protocol for Residents _ . Barnes was familiar with the ten page publication. He had written most of it. It detailed for the non-Avengers that lived under Stark’s roof what to do if there was an attack, or if Friday went offline for any reason. There was even a section on how to hide or attempt to escape if one or more individuals were compromised:  i.e . if the Winter Soldier made an unexpected appearance. He knew she had one, every apartment had one, he just could not imagine why she was keeping it in a container in her kitchen. And why she had brought it to dinner.

_ You scare her. _

Barnes shook the dark thought away. He would always be concerned about that – he knew how most people saw him, but Evelyn had never shown even an ounce of hesitation around him, much less fear.  Not even when she had been high on HYDRA’s drugs and running for her life. And she was a logical woman who had read his files. She would know  that  if he intended to hurt her, she would never have time to get to a stupid manual let alone reference it. The faint sound of water running in the pipes compelled him to put the booklet away, exactly as he had found it, and tuck the canister back into her bag. His own insecurity aside, he knew Evelyn trusted him to keep her safe. 

_She probably forgot it was in there_ , he reasoned as the door to the bathroom quietly opened.  _ She meant to bring something else. _

_ Something else stored in the only container like this one in her kitchen? The only thing on the highest shelf? _ It seemed unlikely.

“Would you mind keeping all the dessert?” Evelyn asked as she walked into the kitchen. She leaned against the pantry door. If he stretched out his arm he would have been able to touch her. “You can bring back the pan whenever. I like it, but one serving every six months or so is enough sugar for me. You can share it with Steve.” The corner of her mouth quirked up in a smirk, “Or just tell him about it and eat it all yourself. Not in one sitting, though. I’m not entirely sure the serum protects you from an insulin overload.”

He remembered the strip of golden skin when she stretched up. The way her braid caressed her waist. She had  leaned over to reach into her freezer instead of bending her knees like most people would have done. And there had been plenty of room in the elevator. She hadn’t needed to stand so close her bare arm brushed against his.  Barnes narrowed his eyes. Steve would have reminded Darcy if they had plans to eat with Evelyn. And Darcy never forgot a meal. Her keys, yes. Her common sense, all the time. Propriety,  he was sure Darcy never had it. But a meal? Darcy Lewis loved few things better than delicious food and snarky company. And there had been Natalia’s excuse – bedding for a chinchilla – he had known she had to be lying, but it hadn’t been worth finding the answer. Now he had to wonder why his  _ lisichka _ had been so willing to turn down her favorite kind of fish.

“Your tea was really good,” Evelyn was saying as she picked up the salad container he had already washed and dried. “Since I don’t think I’ll be learning Russian anytime soon, do you think I could convince you to pick some up for me the next time you buy more? It would be interesting with shortbread. Or maybe a savory cheese cookie.”

If Darcy hadn’t forgotten, it meant that Evelyn had lied about their plans. Evelyn bought a load of groceries specifically to feed six people, or one person and a super soldier,  _ there hadn’t been enough for Darcy, Steve, and Evelyn _ , and then pretended that she was expecting dinner guests. And both Darcy and Natalia had gone along with it. 

_You are a dumb crumb._

She had been coming on to him.

Barnes suddenly took notice of the way she was leaning against the pantry, her arms under her breasts and her hip cocked to lift her shirt enough that a sliver of skin peeked out. The top part of her braid was soft and full, a little like her hair had been for dinner with Dr. Palmer and Strange, not all like she wore it for work or exercise. Her nails were painted a  dusty pink to match her top. She never wore polish on her fingers. Her lips, always lovely, had been slicked with a light gloss. Since they had eaten  s he had gone into the bathroom and fixed her makeup. He was the only person there to see it.

“Thank you, again, for letting me use your kitchen. I hope the meal was enough to make up for me barging into your space like-”

He interrupted her.  “Do you want to stay over?”

It bore repeating.

_ What. The. Fuck. Is wrong with you? _

 

 

_ *  _ _ _Tu pourrais rester la nuit, Sergent –_ _ _ _You could stay the night, Sergeant_ _

_ _lisichka – little fox, term of endearment for a clever redhead_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He shoots - but does he score?


	18. Scuttlebutt

**August 2** **3** **, 2017**

 

 

Never in his entire life, even – Barnes was sure – in the parts of his life he couldn’t remember, had he been as grateful for an interruption as he had been for Friday interrupting his dinner with Evelyn.

_“ Do you want to stay over?”_

Her eyes  had  opened wide. Her lips, slick with gloss and the tastiest thing he had seen all night,  had  parted.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Friday’s soft lilt had prevented Evelyn from responding, “the Boss has requested the team join him for a briefing. Captain Rogers also notes that deployment is likely.”

“I’ll be right there,” he had responded, anxiety and relief tangling up and making his voice rough. Barnes hated leaving people alone in his personal space – even Wilson, but he didn’t think twice about slinking around Evelyn toward the door. “Thanks, thanks for the food. Friday will lock up after you. Thanks. Yeah.” He had listened to the soft tread of her feet as she followed him into his front hallway, but he didn’t look back as he opened the door and closed it behind him. 

“Sergeant Barnes,” Friday had begun hesitantly after the elevator doors had closed, “Are you...in need of assistance?”

Barnes had rubbed his metal hand over his own face. Hard. “Any chance I’ll end up in a coma on this mission?”

“I do not believe that the danger assessment is that severe, Sergeant.”

“Then yeah, assistance would be great. Be a doll and just drop the car straight down to the lobby, would you? No need for breaks. Just let ‘er fall.”

“My safety protocols prevent such an action.”

“It was worth a shot.” He had straightened as the elevator slowed. “Just, ah, just make sure Evelyn has whatever she needs to get the food put away. And let her know not to worry about cleaning anything up. I’ll...yeah.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thanks anyway.” He had stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall toward the briefing room. “I think I’m beyond help at this point.”

“Perhaps I could rerun the mission parameters? The danger level may be higher than anticipated.”

“I’m not that lucky, Friday.”

Returning to the Tower three days later, Barnes felt that the universe had heard his comment and laughed in his face. Not only had the  unidentified object turned out to be an  alien ship  which turned out to have substantial defenses, but it was full of flying octopus creatures in robotic armor. In order to keep the fight away from heavily populated areas, the team had taken hits to lead the enemy into a forested area with a massive ice-fed lake. Natalia had  received a severe blow to the head and broken a leg. Wilson lost a wing and had only managed not to greet a mountain face-first by Stark’s timely arrival on scene, and Steve had taken a prolonged dip in freezing water.  T’Challa had even shown up on the second day – helping turn the tide, but not before Barnes had lost his nest and his Windrunner. Wanda had discovered that the octopus things were psychic; after having a seizure in the middle of the battle she wiped out the majority of the enemy forces. Strange arrived after it was all over - _asshole_ \- and magicked Wanda and Vision straight to the upstate facility along with a few octopus corpses for study.

Barnes' dislocated knee, scalp laceration, and tentacle punctures hurt like a mother fucker – but none of them had rendered him unconscious or erased his memory of the worst offer he had ever made a woman.

_ Do you want to stay over? _

No.  Unfortunately, h e was painfully aware of his injuries and his own ineptitude. The only saving grace was that, while everyone else would live, they were too preoccupied with their own injuries and malfunctioning equipment to force him to stay in medical. At least, that was his hope as they landed the quinjet. Stark had flown back with them – one of his  repulsors had been shorted out by an octopus-robot.  _That sounds a lot more interesting in pulp than reality_ , he groused to himself as he carefully stood up and pulled Steve up next to him. Steve was still shivering, his temperature felt low to Barnes, and gravel had been ground into every long, razor-thin cut that had gone through his suit and straight into his skin. In some place where he was already healing, the small lumps of dirt and rock had been sealed under the flesh and left it bumpy and inflamed.  _ Gonna be a bitch to cut out. _

“Stark Express has arrived,” Stark announced as he shuffled through the back of the quinjet in his black flight suit and waited for the rear hatch to open. “Don’t forget to tip your nurse.” He made a wheezing sort of chuckle that sent a fresh dribble of blood out of his broken nose. 

Wilson unlatched the clamps holding Natalia’s stretcher to the floor one-handed and gestured for Stark to take the other end so they could wheel her down to the waiting medical team. His right arm was in a field sling and covered in the charred remains of his suit. Natalia stirred with a hiss when the stretcher jolted over the floor grates.

_“_ _Fuck,”_ she muttered in Russian. 

Wilson tried to smile at her, but his mouth was bruised and swollen. He looked like he had fallen down the Tower stairs. Starting at the penthouse. “Remind me never to go to an aquarium again.” 

It took Barnes a minute to understand Wilson’s request, through the lisp his fat lip had given him. Natalia didn’t seem to have that problem.

“I prefer the cephalopods behind glass,” she agreed tiredly.

Crisp directions from the infirmary staff took over then, and Barnes let his eyes close for just a moment while he waited his turn to step out with Steve. He might have just sat back down, if he hadn’t been snapped to attention by a familiar, honey-thick voice.

“I want an MRI and an IV of fluids. Natasha, how is your stomach? Queasy at all?”

Barnes looked up in time to see Evelyn, wearing obnoxiously red scrubs with her hair pinned to her head, shining a light in Natalia’s eyes. Even as the spy answered, Evelyn was noting something in a chart and running her hands down the other woman’s limbs, looking for other injuries.

“Better now that Tony isn’t flying anymore. Whoever gave him his license should be fired.” She slurred the last word, and Evelyn whipped out instructions to the rest of the staff, ordering more tests and requesting someone hurry along the neurologist that was supposed to be on call. She jogged along beside the stretcher as Natalia was pushed inside and examined Wilson’s burns while she did so. 

“You can wait. Head to triage and Bridget will start cleaning this up.”

“I’ll stay with Na-”

“Staff Sergeant Wilson,” Evelyn’s distinctly sharp command sent a shiver down Barnes’ spine. “You will wait in triage. Go.” Her voice softened, and Barnes couldn’t help but study the way her stylus continued to move fluidly over her tablet and her lime green trainers never slowed. “I’ll look for you there as soon as we know more.” And then she disappeared inside and a tall, military looking man in yellow nurses’ scrubs appeared to help Wilson along.

The other nurses on staff were all fairly small, Barnes didn’t trust any of them to take Steve’s weight if he lost his footing. Which meant that Barnes had to grit his teeth and shove down his dislike for the infirmary, his surprise over seeing Evelyn there, and his lingering embarrassment  in order  to assist his friend to an exam bed.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Friday intoned through the comm he had forgotten he was still wearing, “Darcy has requested that you keep Captain Rogers in medical until she can arrive. She has been delayed by meetings with the Icelandic government, but will be along as quickly as she can.”

“’M fine,” Steve huffed out. His assurance was made less convincing by the gash on his face that reopened with the movement of his mouth. Fresh blood forced a few larger pieces of sharp black rock out of his skin.

“Just shut up and take it, punk,” Barnes muttered. Wilson’s nurse bumped against his bad leg with a wheeled supply cart, and he bit off a curse, swaying into Steve’s bed and trying not to pass out from the wave of white hot pain radiating out from his knee. He had put the joint back in place in the field, but he wondered if he hadn’t set it quite right. It hurt a hell of a lot more than he remembered from previous dislocations. Thankfully, Steve didn’t notice as he tried to pull the remains of his cowl off using only one hand. 

Over the next fifteen minutes, Barnes felt like he was being pressed in a vise. More medical personnel flitted through triage, examining Stark and Wilson, bringing supplies and narcotics, trying to keep Stark from summoning a robot to help him back to the penthouse. Then cleaning up the mess the robot made trying to get through the secure infirmary doors. Ignoring Stark’s loud exclamations that he didn’t need a band-aid – just a drink. Then another flurry of activity as his flight suit was cut away and it was revealed that most of his torso was one large contusion – complete with internal bleeding. By the time Stark had been lead away to be prepped for surgery and a nurse had begun the laborious process of slicing through Steve’s suit, Wilson was hooked up to an IV of what must have been good drugs – based on his heavy lids and relaxed pose.  The physician’s assistant that was setting his broken arm kept up a mellow string of nonsense while he worked. 

Wilson seemed to find it soothing, but Barnes was busy avoiding the stern gaze of the nurse in charge. He had gone head to head with the woman before – and won ever y time – but if he had to put pressure on his knee for even another five minutes he might give in to her demands to be examined.

“Rowena, would you get Captain Rogers a thermal blanket, please?”

Barnes startled, shifting to a ready stance and then having to grip the low half-wall that separated the triage area from the main corridor in the infirmary to keep from falling down.  Over the multiple conversations between staff, the drone of medical machines, and his own throbbing pain he hadn’t heard Evelyn arrive. As she stepped up into his personal space next to Steve he could make out the faintest trace of her lotion under the antiseptic smell of a hospital and the bland, rubbery taste of latex in the air.

“Bridget,” she continued, not even looking to see if the head nurse had followed her orders, “did you offer the Captain a sedative before you began?”

Barnes hadn’t paid much attention to the stiff way Steve was holding himself while the nurse had peeled away his suit and the dirty, scabbing bits of flesh that came with it. Pain was inevitable and something that had to simply be endured; the super soldiers knew that better than anyone. Based on the tight reprimand in Evelyn’s voice, she disagreed.

“I didn’t – we don’t have anything that works on him, Dr. Vivas.”

“New pharama-, no, obviously you haven’t been read in yet.  Not your fault, Bridget.” She scribbled on her tablet and waved the nurse away. “I have an order in to the pharmacy dispensary. Please go pick it up.” Her tablet disappeared into a wide pocket on the leg of her scrubs and she pulled on a new pair of gloves before reaching for Steve’s leg. Barnes couldn’t help but admire the efficient movement of her slender fingers and the way she waited to touch until she was given permission.

“May I examine these, Steve?” He nodded slowly and she began gently probing at some of his cuts. “Dr. Cho and I have been working on that tranquilizer you and Sergeant Barnes were hit with and we have come up with something that should take the edge off of your pain without knocking you out. If you approve, I’d like to try a low dosage now, before we have to begin removing this debris.”

“Thanks,” Steve managed without opening up his face again, but that one word had a lot of gratitude in it. Barnes understood. It had been a long time since either of them had been given the luxury of dulling their senses.

“Alright. The injection should begin to work in-”

“Dr. Vivas,” another voice called from one of the surgical suites. “We are prepping Mr. Stark, and Dr. Hoke would like a consult as soon as you are gowned up.”

“I’ll be right there. Forward the test results to me.” She pulled out her tablet again and started reading through it even as she took the small vial of drugs from Bridget and double checked that it was what she had ordered. Darcy entered the infirmary then, looking worried until she caught sight of them. Then she looked really worried. “Ten cc’s to start, and then another ten in five minutes if he is still in pain. Be honest with her, Steve. We can go up to twenty if we need to, okay?”

“We’ll let Bridget know,” Darcy said, arriving out of breath on Steve’s other side. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but only managed to break open his cheek again.

Evelyn touched  Barnes’ metal arm lightly. He followed the warmth of her  skin out into the corridor as she drew a curtain around Steve, Darcy, and Bridget. 

“How deep are those punctures?" She gestured to his stomach.

He blinked at her, but she only waited with the cool, professional calm that he had seen on her face many times before she had been abducted.

“Not bad,” he finally answered. She didn’t seem upset about how he had left things, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good sign.

“Not bad – as in they are already sealed up, or not bad as in you’ve had worse?” She only raised an eyebrow at his silence. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to stay and be treated? Maybe take a shot like Steve?”

Barnes honestly could imagine  very few scenarios less  desirable at that moment than lying down in the busy infirmary, exposed, and willingly incapacitating himself.

She sighed. “I didn’t think so.  I’ll be at least a few more hours here  before I can drop by , but if you want to get me out of your hair faster, you could try to get all this armor off and clean – gently – the sites with-”

“Dr. Vivas, we’re nearly ready for you. And Dr. Hoke is still waiting on that consult.”

“Please notify Ms. Potts that I’ll begin in ten minutes, and Friday will keep her updated.” Evelyn never looked away from him. Her voice dropped as he heard the infirmary staffer move away. “Would that be all right with you? If I came by?”

She drew in her lower lip while she waited for his response – out of concern, maybe. Whatever she was feeling, it wasn’t disgust or pity over his pathetic attempts at charm. He would take it. 

And not having to stitch himself up,  _ again _ _,_ sounded pretty good too.

“I’ll have Friday let you in.”

She nodded and moved off with a light brush of fingers against his metal arm. “And get some ice on that knee,” she called softly over her shoulder. “It will have to be  adjusted .”

He wondered how  she knew. He hadn’t said anything over comms about it or put a mention in his mission brief. She disappeared into the surgical prep room and he took a step toward the elevator – promptly deciding he didn’t care how she knew. His leg was killing him. 

Friday remained silent as he made his way to his own apartment, although there was a box waiting at his door full of fresh medical supplies. Directly on top was an instant ice pack. He very nearly blacked out when he bent down to pick it up. He left the supplies – except the ice pack – on his kitchen counter and made his way directly to his bathroom, carefully removing clothing as he went. The shower was running and filling the room with steam by the time he had finally worked his pants over the swollen and discolored joint of his left knee. His shower was less enjoyable than usual. Each trickle of shampoo or soap across the wounds on his abdomen and ribs stung bad enough that he let loose with curses in three languages. Scrubbing his h ead pulled at the punctures and wore him out much more quickly than he cared to admit. He didn’t even bother drying his hair when he got out, just wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed the ice pack and a pair of sweatpants. 

“Friday,” he called out as he sank onto his couch. After he sat down, he realized that he would have to stand again to put on his pants, but it just seemed like too much work. Especially when it would be hours before Evelyn could possibly arrive.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Allow Evelyn Vivas access to my apartment.”

“What restrictions would you prefer?”

Barnes grunted as he propped his foot up on the other end of the couch, shaking the ice pack to get it cold and settling it on his knee with a hiss. “None.”

He slid down until his head rested against the arm and  used his wadded up pants to mop  up a fresh dribble of blood from the deepest hole in his side. He figured twenty minutes or so of ice and he’d be able to put enough weight on his leg to go get dressed. Maybe he could even set out the things for tea, in case Evelyn wanted some when she arrived. She’d be tired after working in the infirmary, but probably wired with adrenaline too. He wished he had something for her to eat, and winced at the thought of the leftovers from their dinner having gone old in his refrigerator. He hoped the pudding was okay.

“Friday,” he said tiredly, laying his metal forearm over his eyes and enjoying the cooler temperature against a bruise he hadn’t realized had formed under his right eyebrow. “Could you order some food? Maybe...if there’s something Evelyn prefers...” Other than her own cooking, he’d only ever seen her eating breakfast stuff from the lobby cafe or the generic sandwiches and smoothies he stole for her from Stark’s kitchen. “Somethin’ easy...nothin’, nothin’ she’d have to mix up. Or...” God, what could he possibly serve to a woman that said: you’re the most interesting and beautiful person I’ve ever met – sorry I’m an inept moron?

His breathing evened out and slowed into a light sleep before he could think of anything.


	19. Fancy Meeting You Here

**August 23. 2017**

 

Evie released the last clamp and watched to make certain that she hadn’t missed any bleeders. Tony had ruptured a few blood vessels in his abdomen. It wouldn’t have been life threatening if he weren’t still weaning off of blood thinners for his heart. Another month and there would not have been an issue, but as it was she hadn’t felt it was worth the risk to try and let the minor internal bleeding resolve itself.

_Six cauterizations. One suture. Recommended post-op treatment including ten percent solution of frozen platelets._

_Cho’s printed skin should have adhered to Wilson’s burns by now. Add vitamins A and E to nutritional supplement for the next two weeks._

A low tone sounded and Dr. Hoke’s voice came over the intercom from the other surgical room.

“Ms. Romanoff is on her way to recovery. Do you need any assistance?”

_Steve’s blood work should show only trace amounts of sedative by tomorrow. Re-assess and discuss results with Cho._

“Just closing up here, thank you. Go ahead and wash up.”

_James may have developed a bone abscess from resetting his knee. El idiota no pediría agua si su cabeza estuviera en llamas. Watch for lingering pain._

Hoke sounded tired, “I’m going to stay in the medical studio tonight. I’ve registered myself as on call until I can perform a followup on Romanoff in the morning.”

_If you clean the head wound with straight alcohol first, he may accept a sedative before you work on the knee._

“Sounds good. Thanks, Hoke.” The intercom clicked off and Evie waited another thirty seconds before addressing her surgical team. “Alright. This is looking good. Let’s close.”

It was another hour before she was ready to leave the infirmary. She hadn’t worked with most of the staff before, so they all had to be given explicit instructions on how she wanted patients cared for and under what circumstances she should be called. Sam Wilson was rather sleepily ensconced in a private room with fresh new skin adhering to the burns on his broken arm and an IV full of painkillers. He inquired after Natasha, but as soon as he had been assured she was in recovery and doing well the man closed his eyes and settled into a doze. Darcy had taken Steve home, and Evie sent her a quick note with some additional things to look for and a request that Steve stop in for a followup as soon as he felt up to coming in the next day. She filed reports and signed off on treatments, and was left surprised when she had nothing more to do. It should have taken her three times as long to finish up after a surgery and supervising care on so many trauma patients.

_Get used to it._

_Tal vez las drogas de HYDRA no son tan malas._

Evie snorted and pulled her bag out from under the small desk in the Chief of Medical’s shoebox office. “Friday, what sort of supplies does James have on hand? Do I need to bring a suture kit?”

Friday did a quick run through, and Evie only stopped for sedatives and syringes to add to her bag before she let Rowena know she was leaving and stepped into the elevator.

“Sergeant Barnes has updated his security protocols to allow you access to his apartment, Dr. Vivas,” Friday informed her once the elevator doors closed. “I took the liberty of having additional materials delivered. You will find them on the kitchen counter.” Evie stepped out onto the eighty-seventh floor. “The Sergeant is currently in his living room.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

Evie’s brain was still sprinting ahead of her, simultaneously considering physiotherapy for James’ knee, possible alterations to the sedative she had provided for Steve, and potential repercussions of Natasha’s head injury. She was tired; in her muscles and bones she was exhausted from too little sleep the night before and more work than she had done in months. Still, she was also wide awake and almost jittery. As she recovered from having her attention split in so many different directions, a low-level headache made itself known at the top of her skull. If James hadn’t been waiting for her, she would have gone for a run – anything to wear herself out enough to sleep. She sighed even as his front door opened silently under her touch. She was already worn out, but the endorphin rush would have been nice.

She didn’t see him immediately as she walked down the hallway and passed the kitchen. Discarded, dirty clothes left a trail to the open bedroom door, but the lights in there were off and she couldn’t hear the shower.

“James?” Evie tried to keep her voice soft, in case he had decided to lie down. Apparently, she wasn’t quiet enough as he jackknifed up from the couch, hair sticking up oddly and chest bare.

“ _Vernis’_!” His sharply barked command was quickly followed by a full-body flinch. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, sinking back into a reclining position.

“Sorry,” Evie winced and stepped around the couch to assess his condition. “I didn’t mean to...”

He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring down at his torso and trying to stanch the blood dribbling out of his wounds and onto the black leather couch. _You would think his damp skin would stick to all that leather._ It wasn’t the condition of his sofa or the numerous small punctures that made her lose her train of thought. James wasn’t just shirtless. He was naked. A thick white towel was wrapped around his waist, but it had twisted when he laid down and was in danger of coming completely off. His right foot was planted on the floor and the thick muscle of his thigh exposed all the way to his hip. Evie had already seen everything he had on offer – but not while he was awake and in his right mind. Certainly, it seemed more intimate since their dinner and his surprising invitation.

“I’ll get another towel.” She dropped her bag without even looking to see where it would land. He muttered something too low for her to hear and she faced into the kitchen like a coward, looking through the box on the counter as if she didn’t already know what was in there. “Do you have a pair of shorts I could get for you? Even loose pants will make looking at that knee difficult.”

“Closet,” he said gruffly, “right of the door.”

Evie shot out of the room. She took her time picking out a pair of loose running shorts from the small pile in his bare closet. Looking into his bathroom mirror, she sucked in a deep breath and schooled her features into something more professional and less eager to take a bite out of him.

“I brought the same sedative Steve was given,” she said as she walked back out into the living area, hoping a focused conversation would remind her not to ogle him while he needed medical care. “I hope you will at least consider a small dose. Pain tenses up the muscles, and it will be easier to re-luxate your knee and perform a reduction if you aren’t flexing.”

Evie took a seat on the coffee table with her back to the windows, and held her breath as her gaze skipped over James’ body before meeting his eyes. He had readjusted his towel and was holding a wadded up, bloody pair of sweatpants in his lap. His scowl wasn’t the worst she had ever seen on his face, but it was a far cry from relaxed or happy. The knee alone would have been enough to have most people in tears, she couldn’t blame him for frowning.

His jaw clenched a few times, but he met her eyes. “Half of what you gave Steve.”

Evie raised an eyebrow but administered the injection as directed, a little surprised he hadn’t needed more convincing. She pulled out a new pair of gloves and began arranging what she would need on a sterile mat next to her. “Is this a pissing contest? What do you get if you win? Bragging rights as biggest macho man?”

“Stubborn ass trophy,” he responded with a shallow breath as she brought a Betadine wipe toward his ribs. James held himself unnaturally still as she gently cleaned around each of the six puncture wounds on his ribs and abdomen. They looked as if some had started to close up. None were much larger around than her finger. The deepest was nearly an inch, and two of the holes were inflamed around the edges to a dark red.

“Sounds really prestigious. You guys just pass that back and forth? Or is there a deadline for doing unnecessarily stupid shit to prove how tough you are?” Evie frowned and carefully probed the irritated skin. James did not react except to become even more stiff and unmoving. “I’m going to get out a headlamp, I think there might be some debris in here that is preventing you from healing.”

“We’re not that formal. And I object to the ‘unnecessarily’ description. Is the shit stupid? Probably, in hindsight, but-” he sucked in a breath when Evie pressed one gloved finger inside the deepest puncture. “Fucking hell, doll. Buy me a drink first.”

Evie glanced up, momentarily forgetting her growing concerns, and felt a laugh bubble up. “Don’t back down now, Sergeant, not when I’m finally getting my fingers in you.” His mouth dropped open and she laughed again, feeling a blush work up her cheeks. She realized he probably didn’t remember their last surgical conversation, and she almost wished she could dose him more heavily so he would lose all the tension that kept him bottled up. Before he could respond or she could make the conversation more awkward, she picked up her forceps. “There is definitely something hooked into the muscle here. I would prefer to take an x-ray before I do this. Actually I would prefer to do this under anesthesia with one or two assistants in a sterile environment, but can I assume you’d rather go with the old timey field medicine? Maybe later we could bleed off the foul humors? I’m sure I could find some mercury around here somewhere.”

“Get it over with.” He gripped the couch cushion with his metal hand.

“Has the anesthetic kicked in yet?”

James tilted his head, quiet for a moment. “Yeah.” His grip on the sofa relaxed and his posture eased a small amount. “Yeah, that’s...it’s better.”

“Okay.” Evie held a square of gauze under the wound to soak up fluid and aimed her headlamp down so she wouldn’t blind James while she looked at his face. “The foreign object is hooked or wedged in there, but I can’t see exactly how so I am going to try to work it out slowly. You should feel some pressure, and tugging, but if there is any sharp pain – any tearing at all, say something. I can go at this from a different angle, get you another shot. James, I am serious here. _Do not_ let me hurt you.” He nodded, but Evie wasn’t convinced he would interrupt her even if she stabbed him.

Normally, she would have put on a gown and face mask before beginning a procedure like this but there wasn’t much that was normal about the situation. Evie understood that James had anxiety over medical procedures. She hadn’t read his entire file, but she she knew the experiments and treatments he had undergone with HYDRA and she couldn’t blame him for wanting autonomy. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had been unable to allow her to treat him at all. It was an indication of how strong he was that he could overcome his very real psychological blocks to let her kneel before him in scrubs and latex gloves and poke at him. Evie considered that she should probably ask him for advice – she still couldn’t let anyone else near her with a needle.

“So,” she began to distract him from what she had to do, “how exactly did this happen?”

“Pretty sure that’s classified.”

Evie carefully gripped the gray-green lump that was burrowed through the _internal abdominal oblique_ and into the _transversus abdominus_. The object was as big around as a nickle and had the density of under cooked pork chop.

“I meant how did this get through your jacket? I thought it was supposed to be bullet proof.” She gave an experimental tug, and Barnes blew out a harsh breath, but didn’t ask her to stop. “Could you hold this gauze here?” She waited for his metal fingers to press against the bandage, then picked up a second pair of forceps, using them to hold his wound open further so she could see where the object had plunged into the muscle tissue. James held still, but he didn’t tense up any more than he already was.

“Guess it only stops bullets.”

“Gee, thank goodness you guys only fight against guns then.”

James snorted, then bit off something in Russian when Evie readjusted her grip on the object, slipping her tool between it and his muscle.

“Stark’s working on something else,” he said slowly, breathing in even, measured inhalations. “Steve was supposed to test out a prototype last week.”

“Hm.” Evie left her forceps clamped, wishing she had another hand, and reached for her scalpel. Without asking, James took hold of the tool that was holding his body open so she could keep a grip on the object and stick a knife inside him. As far as trust exercises went, she felt they were nailing it. “I’m going to take this thing out in pieces so I can see how it is stuck. How did the test go?”

She sliced deeply and smoothly. A trail of yellowish liquid dripped out of it and she prayed it wasn’t poisonous. Although if it was, she figured James had already been exposed to a much larger dose. He started talking about tensile strengths and kinetic dispersal rates. Evie listened with one ear while she meticulously cut away and removed a few centimeters at a time until she found a barbed point that had hooked many tiny sharp filaments into the muscle fibers. Most of them she removed with tweezers, but two had to be taken out by cutting some of the surrounding tissue as well. She collected all of the debris into a dish to be examined in the lab. Taking the gauze and forceps from James, she cleaned out the wound thoroughly before sitting up again. Her neck and shoulders were aching from the hunched position.

“Finished?”

Evie glanced up at Barnes. She had seen him look worse, but he was obviously in pain. His face was pale, the fine lines around his eyes tight. He ran his flesh hand through his damp hair and all of the strands smoothed out under his attention to lie neatly around his face. She wondered if his hair had been that nice before the serum.

“One more that has debris in it, then a couple of sutures on the two deep wounds and a bandage over the whole mess. And I still need to take care of you knee. And check that cut on your head.”

James offered her a half-hearted smile. “Promise you won’t tell Steve and I’ll take another shot.”

She held up one hand, and let the other hover over her heart. “The secret of your reasonable behavior will go with me to the grave. Scout’s honor.”

“This is five cc’s,” she informed him as she readied the injection. “That makes a total of eight. The computer model I did suggested you could have twenty without losing consciousness, but I can’t say that for certain until you or Steve try it out. Since,” she added dryly, “I very much doubt either of you plan on retiring and taking up stamp collecting any time soon, I’m sure the opportunity will come up sooner rather than later. Honestly though, if you feel any discomfort, or queasiness, or anything feels not right at all, please tell me immediately. I can flush your system with saline and pull the meds from the pharmacy until you feel comfortable using them. Don’t feel like you have to take my advice or treatment.”

“Yes,” he deadpanned, “because I’m so well known around here for going along to get along.” James clasped his metal hand around her bicep, stopping her from taking the ice off of his knee and forcing Evie to meet his gaze. “It’s fine. I trust you.”

His face made a strange expression that she couldn’t identify, but before she could think about it further he let go and leaned back against the arm of the couch again, wincing as his stomach flexed.

“Knee first then. We can ice it more while I finish up with the...” Evie paused, considering the lumps she had already removed. “Are those tentacles?”

“Classified,” he murmured, throwing his arm over his face.

“You might want to consider un-classifiying that,” she retorted and removed his ice. With fresh gloves she palpated the skin around his knee, swiftly finding where the joint wasn’t sitting exactly flush in the socket. “Bio-hazards are really something your doctor should be aware of. Especially alien fluids that enter your body.” He didn’t react, and Evie made a note to bring it up with Darcy. If for no other reason than to put policies in place to protect the medical staff from exposure to unknown organic materials. With a practiced movement she pulled his lower leg away from the joint.

“Sweet mother of-” James clenched his jaw and kept his face covered.

Evie winced in sympathy. “Besides. If you had been injected with alien DNA, hypothetically, who is to say what sort of reaction you might have?” It took most of her newly developed upper body strength, but Evie lifted the dead weight of his calf and snapped the _femoral_ and _tibial condyles_ back together properly. “For all we know, you could be infested with eggs.”

James lifted his arm just enough to aim one disbelieving eye at her. He was a fraction of a second too slow in focusing, and she took that as a good sign that the sedatives were dulling his pain. “Are you suggesting I’m pregnant?”

Evie shrugged and smiled sweetly, congratulating herself on successfully distracting him from the procedure. “Probably not. But since I don’t know the details – because they are so classified – I really can’t say.”

He huffed out a cross between a laugh and a groan. Evie hummed in satisfaction and went back to work on his torso, removing the last chunk of hypothetical tentacle and getting him disinfected and stitching the two deepest wounds. She helped him to sit up so she could wrap gauze around his waist – to keep any drainage from staining his clothes or bedding – and then carefully probed his scalp. His breath was warm on her chest, even through her scrubs, as she felt along the mostly healed laceration under his hair.

“Do you want any help with your – with standing?” Evie was irritated to find herself a little breathless.

“No.” He cleared his throat. “Could you...some water, or tea?” He refused to meet her gaze, and Evie had to wonder if the pinker color of his neck was due to pressure from laying on the couch or embarrassment.

“Sure.” She gathered up her things, packaging the remains of the probable alien tentacle in a biohazard container and putting it in the refrigerator as soon as she had thoroughly washed her hands. She set water to boil, and felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. The last thing she probably needed was caffeine. Evie turned to ask if he had any herbal tea, and was just in time to catch a glimpse of pale, firm ass before his shorts covered it up. She whipped around to face the cupboards and began looking through them blindly. “Do you have any green tea? Or chamomile?”

 _Good God, woman. Get a grip. Sólo dale un apretón._ Evie snorted. Neither of those suggestions were likely to happen.

A metal hand reached past her and grabbed a box clearly labeled as herbal tea.

“Good idea,” he said. His voice was deep and soft and so close behind her she felt it as much as heard it. “It’s getting late. We should probably get to bed soon.”

__Dios mio._ _

 

 

 _*_ __El idiota no pediría agua si su cabeza estuviera en llamas. - Idiot wouldn’t ask for water if his head was on fire._ _

__Tal vez las drogas de HYDRA no son tan malas. - Maybe the HYDRA drugs aren’t all bad._ _

__Vernis’ - Get back_ _

__Sólo dale un apretón –_ _ __Just give him a squeeze_ _

__Dios mio – My God._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, towels. So good at absorption and so unfortunately capable of staying in place.
> 
> Update: And thank you to Minami016, again, for translation corrections!


	20. The Proof is in the Pudding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest - I'm still thinking about that container for leeches...

**August 23, 2017**

 

What the fuck was wrong with him?

_We should probably get to bed soon._

No. Barnes knew what was wrong. He was an idiot. A perverted idiot who hadn’t been laid in seventy-five years – or more than five years, if time on ice didn’t count, but either way a hell of a long time. A perverted, blue-balled idiot who seemed to have lost his ability to speak intelligible, reasonable English. He would have liked to blame it on the drugs that had him pleasantly distanced from himself, but he was plenty good at being an idiot without the help of narcotics.

He plunked tea bags in cups and tried not to break anything in his disgust with himself. They had never been on a date – he hadn’t even asked her out yet, and here he was inviting her to have sex. At least, it sure as hell sounded that way. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that he had only meant they both needed sleep. He splashed hot water into two cups and bit his cheek rather than make a sound when boiling water sloshed out onto his hand. At least whatever was in that shot had blurred the sensations in his own body. The throb of his injuries was negligible, and the throb in his pants was surprisingly absent despite _how good her skin smells and how soft her hair looks and the way her ass was round and right there when she knelt on the couch and -_

_Legendary charmer my ass_ , he snarled in his head.

There he went, propositioning a woman who was so far out of his league he’d get dizzy trying to climb that high. She had just fucking fished _alien squid_ out of him and watched him practically cry when she fixed his knee and he had repaid her by sniffing her chest and neck and suggesting she was considerably more free with her favors than any woman – century regardless – would find flattering. _Swell job, jerk._

She had to be exhausted as well. Up probably since before dawn, and with no one at the Tower he doubted she had kept her exercise reasonable. And probably hadn’t eaten much either. Her face looked thinner that it had just three days ago, but her shapeless scrubs kept him from making a more through assessment. She had been scheduled to spend the day in her clinic and the lab - until the Avengers came back covered in blood and demanded hours more of her time. On top of it all she, generously, offered to accommodate his phobias and spend a couple of hours stitching up his sorry ass and what did he do? Really brought the gratitude and eloquence.

“Would you pass the sugar?”

Her soft request made him realize he was still standing right next to her, crowding her up to the counter. They weren’t quite touching, but she would have to brush up against him to move away. _Goddammit._ Barnes grabbed the dish and set it next to her cup before taking his own tea and moving away as quickly as possible without spilling or his knee giving out. _Give up now, asshole, before she ends up screaming for help._

He leaned against the opposite counter and sipped his weak tea, welcoming the burn to his mouth and the sharp twinge of stitches. He almost wished he hadn’t accepted the drugs. His behavior warranted a hell of a lot more pain than he was feeling. To his surprise, Evelyn joined him, blowing on her cup.

“I had forgotten how fast time in an ER can go,” she stated, playing with the spoon and pressing it up against her teabag. “And how hard it is. Working for SI made me lazy.”

Barnes snorted. “No one would ever accuse you of that.” As Evelyn made no sign that she had taken any offense, his shame began to fade. Or maybe the sedatives were really kicking in. Either way, he wanted to distract Evelyn from his own ineptitude. “Did you decide to take Darcy up on that job offer then? This your first day?”

“I’m just trying it on, for now. We’ll see where things stand in a month or so. With my situation...well, it’s best if I ease into it. No one wants me to suddenly figure out I can’t handle the stress when I’m in the middle of a surgery or something.” She sipped her tea, then let out a short laugh. “Or, that was the idea, anyway. You Avenging types sure know how to mess up a plan.”

“Yeah.” Barnes let his flesh shoulder fall against the wall of the pantry and angled his body to face her and take his weight completely off of his swollen knee. “We’re real good at that. ‘t’s why Steve had to always have a plan, see? ‘Cause the first one or five were always gettin’ firebombed.”

“According to Darcy, Steve’s plans mostly consist of kicking down doors and punching people.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted. His smile came easier when she glanced up at him from the corner of her eye. Steam from her tea haloed her face and made the short hairs that had escaped her twisty-thing curl into springs. “But, give the guy a little credit, that’s never Plan A. That’s, ya’ know, Plan E or something.”

She flattened one hand on the counter, putting her weight on it and turning a little to face him. It had the effect of drawing attention to her chest and the length of her neck exposed by her tilted head. He wondered if this, too, was flirting or if he was just high.

“I had no idea I should harbor so much admiration for the Captain. Such tenacity. Such acumen.”

“Don’t get carried away. He doesn’t come up with everything.” Barnes took another sip of tea, mostly to stall for time and to enjoy watching her lips on the brim of her cup.

“You’re right. Nat is probably responsible for fifty percent of the successes.”

He clasped his metal hand to his chest. “Ouch.” His wince was real. He had forgotten about his stitches and the sudden movement pulled uncomfortably.

“Come on, hotshot.” She took his cup and set it in the sink, rinsing it and hers quickly. “I think you’re right about bedtime.” Before he could blink, she had tucked herself under his metal arm and was leading him toward his bedroom. She was tall enough that she actually helped take some of the pressure off of his leg.

“You don’t, ah...” He trailed off, not sure what to say as he sat down on the mattress. She put one palm under his bare calf, and the other just above his knee on the back of his thigh. Only the pain in his joint and the sudden relief at having his leg horizontal kept him from focusing on the way her fingertips had slipped under the edge of his shorts. She didn’t pull the covers over him – he was neither a child nor unconscious – but left that to him as she stepped back toward the door. He immediately wished she’d come closer again.

“Does your offer still stand?”

“What?” He had been watching the lights from the living room glint on her hair and it took him a minute to catch up, but she was already trying to make excuses and shuffling backward out of the room.

“I’m sorry. I overstepped, Sergeant. Have Friday let me – or the on call staff if you prefer – know if you feel any numbness or queasiness, or if any of your wounds are hot to the touc-”

“Stay.” _Dammit._ She stopped short. “I mean. I would like it if you stayed. If you want to. There’s plenty of room,” he gestured awkwardly to the opposite side of the bed. _Hell on Earth._ He was talking himself straight into a hell on Earth. “Or there’s Steve’s room – a guest room, I mean. The sheets are clean, if you, I...”

“The other night, on the roof...I haven’t slept that well in...”

He knew exactly what she meant. He had hoped that she would be interested in sharing his bed for reasons other than quality of sleep, but it was a good start. And probably he couldn’t manage much more than that until he was healed – although he’d give it every effort if she wanted. Barnes wasn’t too proud, or too sure of his future chances, to refuse her regardless of her reasons. She chuckled. It was a low, thick sound that was warm in his gut.

“And I wouldn’t mind waking up to this view, either.”

For one long moment, he thought she was talking about the Manhattan skyline. Realization was slow in coming, but enjoyable. If she thought he looked good after two days of battle and impromptu surgery, he figured he might have a shot of impressing her with a shave and actual clothes instead of bandages.

“If you want to use the shower-”

“I do probably smell like antiseptic and blood.” She wrinkled her nose. It was the least attractive expression he had ever seen her make. He loved it.

“Borrow whatever you like – to wear, too. I guess you know where everything is.”

Evelyn smiled, the flash of her teeth white in the shadows of his bedroom. Barnes settled back into his pillows, trying to get comfortable and not look like he was studying her every move as she gathered her bag and shut off the lights in the living area. He fell asleep listening to the water run, trying to guess what scent of soap she would use. Trying not to imagine bubbles on golden skin.

He failed miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have all been so generous with your comments, I appreciate it to no end. And the conversations that get started with those threads! I love it!
> 
> We are so close to the end of Awake O Sleeper, and then *possibly* I'll be able to move on to other things. I don't have a tremendous amount of faith in my own willpower, but I'll give it a shot. As always, I love to hear suggestions as to what you want to see next. I believe I only have two outstanding requests: the aftermath of Thor's arrival, and Vision figuring out the 'L' word. Let me know if you have others!


	21. You Should See What I Can Do With A Cherry Stem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go forth, you abused and broken heroes, you valiant do-gooders and protectors of right, go forth and have all the good things.

**August 24, 2017**

 

 

“Shhh.”

Evie turned to see a young boy. He was curled up on the bare concrete floor. Wedged between the end of a cot and  a cinder block corner , he had made himself as small as possible. Only the shaggy mess of brown hair on his head and big eyes made dark by shadows were visible above his knees. She crawled toward him, using her body to  shield him from the rest  of the room . She reached a hand out to comfort him, to tell him everything would be okay, but her arm was bare and cold. Needle marks, new layered on old in a  repugnant tapestry of bruises, covered her from wrist to shoulder. She stared in horror at the back of her hand. The skin was sunken around each bone. Plastic tubing had been taped down into a vein, and snaked away across the floor. 

The only light in the room came from an IV bag of opalescent blue liquid.

_ GH-321. _

She couldn’t look away, watching the glow of poison slowly dripping down.  Down into the tubing.  Down across the floor in loops and whorls that seemed to stretch forever.  Down into the back of her hand .  Down, sink ing under her skin. 

Cold. Thick. Sharp.

Her heart was beating too fast. Pumping blue venom straight to her brain. She grabbed the tube to rip it out. The tape came away, but there was no needle. Skin and plastic had grown together, scarred over and melded so that it was part of her.

“They’re coming for us.”

** 3:26 a.m. **

Ev ie woke with a shiver. 

It took several long moments, staring at the fireplace and the sad remains of a  _Get Well Soon – At Least It’s Not Chlamydia!_ candy bouquet to realize where she was. Cream colored linens and a fluffy duvet had been folded up and wedged around her – not covering her, but making two walls of  thermal mass on either side. She was alone in the room.

She shoved one hand across her face, brushing back the wisps of hair that had escaped her braid and feeling the clammy moisture of sweat at her temples. Evie grimaced. Scaring a man out of bed with night terrors probably wasn’t the best way to start a romantic relationship.  She crawled out across his side, noting that he had left the blankets folded back. She imagined she could feel lingering warmth where he had been sleeping. The lights in the bathroom came on low when she entered, but Friday did not inquire about her health. Evie guessed that either she hadn’t screamed this time, or James had stricter privacy settings in his apartment. 

Warm water took the frigid  chill from  her hands and rinsed away the sweat drying on her face and neck. Evelyn studied her reflection as she dried off. Her  throat was completely healed except for a thin white scar made by her own fingernail. She had accidentally broken Cho’s machine before  the last cut could be repaired  and Evie didn’t want to even think of undergoing another treatment  simply for vanity . The shadows under her eyes and the prominent bones in her face could be passed off as overwork or maybe a bout of flu.  _ A fad diet _ _,_ she thought humorlessly.  _Maybe one of those juice cleanses_. Wearing one of James’ soft long-sleeved shirts the amount of weight she had lost was undeniable and unattractive. The collar slipped off of one shoulder, exposing a c lavicle she could almost put her fingers around. Where a few buttons had come undone, she could see her sternum and several ribs. Evie lifted the hem. She had cinched his sweatpants as tight as they would go, but they still barely clung to her ass, exposing the defined crest of her pelvi c ridges .

_ What the hell are you doing to yourself? _

Disgusted, and more shook up than she had been from the nightmare, Evie left the hand towel on the counter and padded barefoot out of the bedroom. The lights were all off, but when she turned on a lamp there was no James in sight. _Worry about that later_ , she thought. Determined, she entered the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator. 

A disposable container of salmon that needed to be thrown out. Some cucumber yogurt, a withered plum, a half-used gallon of milk nearing its expiration date, and the remains of a dish of her dessert pudding – spoon still stuck under the plastic wrap, constituted the entire contents. 

And a sealed petri-dish of tentacles inside a bio-bag.

With a frown Evie checked the freezer. One tv dinner had been in there long enough to adhere to the side under a layer of frost. A bag of peas. A truly astounding collection of ice packs. She shut the drawer with a huff  and only glanced through the cupboards. The man had no food. Her stomach rumbled and Evie made a decision. She went back for the bag she had left in the bedroom, slipped on her tennis shoes without socks, and grabbed the biohazard bag. On her way out the door she paused, finding a note taped at eye level.

**Security check. Will return.**

~~ **Help yoursel** ~~

**Thanks.**

_ Security check? _ Evie wrenched open the door and frowned. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who had trouble shutting off work. That or he had woken up clear of the drugs and regretted the skinny, sweating woman who had invited herself into his bed.

_ Thanks? Thanks? _

She viciously punched the elevator call button.  _Thanks for what? Excellent medical care? Running interference with Steve? Pudding leftovers? Putting my gross armor outfit in a laundry bag so it doesn’t stain the rug? Thanks for leaving while I’m gone so this doesn’t have to be more awkward?_

_ Thanks for saying what I was too shy to say, and for staying. Thanks for being there when I get back.  _

Evie glanced down at her feet, green sneakers almost invisible under too large sweatpants.

_ Thanks for making something to eat, because I am even more hungry than you and almost as bad about taking care of myself. _

God, she hoped so. For the first time in days, weeks maybe, Evie could feel the cramp of hunger in her stomach and it felt good.  It was a reminder that she was still alive. A reminder that there were good things to be enjoyed in life – not just survived. She wanted sourdough waffles with cinnamon and pecan chips. She wanted crisp bacon and a cheesy spinach frittata and fresh orange juice. Grilled onions, green peppers, and  spicy  seasoned potatoes with a soft boiled egg that wo u ld break open over the top and coat everything in rich yolk.  Hot coffee and s our cream donuts fried in oil. Warm English muffins toasted and slathered with butter, served with pork sausage and scrambled eggs. Creamy yogurt with fresh blueberries and almonds and toasted oats.

She was  _ starving . _

Evie dropped off the specimen in her lab and made a few notes to Friday regarding protocols for it and a reminder of tests she wanted to run. She had pulled up her pantry list on her phone as she walked out the door and nearly ran into James.

“Oh! Sorry, I-”

“Is everything okay?” His face was furrowed into a scowl, his posture tense, but his hands were gentle on her shoulders, keeping her from plowing into him – but also from moving away. _Right – he lojacked you._

“No. I mean, yes, I’m fine. I was just dropping off the object removed from your wounds and I thought I’d get something to eat.”

His scowl eased. His metal hand dropped  to his side and his much warmer right palm slipped down to cup her elbow, but he didn’t let go of her. “Alien tentacles made you hungry?”

“I thought they were hypothetical?”

A smile quirked at James’ lips. “Hypothetical tentacles made you hungry?”

“Yes. Exactly.” She raised one eyebrow in challenge, breathing shallowly to help stave off the almost nauseating demands of her stomach. “I was thinking sushi.”

“Uh...” His mouth twisted. 

Evie was torn between wanting to nibble on those full red lips, and wanting to devour the closest steak. Food won. Barely.

“If you’re done working, I have a whisk with your name on it. I pay my kitchen help in meals.”

“I, uh, still need to sweep the lobby,” he said quietly. His lashes fell, almost as if he was embarrassed. She couldn’t imagine why – security was his job. Knowing he took it seriously, maybe even a bit too seriously, was comforting in a way. Evie highly doubted HYDRA or anyone else would get to her if James was guarding her. She was more than happy to give him carte blanche to guard as closely as he wanted.

“But,” he continued slowly, “I-”

“Let me guess,” she drawled, just to cut off her own spiral of thought, “you could eat?”

James narrow ed h is eyes and met her gaze with his own blue-gray stare. “Ha. So funny. Are you sure you went to medical school? Not a clown college?”

“Double-major.”

“In what? Babies and Nose-honking?”

“Obstetrics and Gene-ggling.”

Slowly, as if he wasn’t sure of the answer and was less sure he wanted to know, James asked, “Do you mean juggling?”

“Obviously.”

“That’s...really bad. So bad Darcy wouldn’t use that pun. Is it even a pun? I don’t think it meets the parameters.”

“So it’s like that?” Evie stalked away toward the elevator, which Friday helpfully had ready for her. She flipped her braid over her shoulder dramatically as she spun around to face him and pulled the first three things out of her bag her hand found. A tube of lip gloss. Her phone. A penlight. “There was going to be a performance after breakfast, but I didn’t realize I was going to be heckled.”

“This venue has really gone to the circus,” he agreed solemnly. 

She had to bit e her lip to keep from laughing.

“For that, I’ll save all the stirring _and_ chopping for you. And there will be no entertainment.  You will feel the loss keenly.” She stepped backward into the waiting car and tossed all three items into the air. Evie almost lost the phone – it weighed quite a bit more than the light or lip gloss, but she managed at the last second to keep it up. Friday closed the doors on James’ open mouth.

Her light, happy feeling faded instantly when she entered her apartment and opened her refrigerator to be met with the scent of marinating pork loin  that had been in there too long . Evie gagged, her empty stomach revolting at the rich smell. She had to shut the door and sit down on the floor, breathing deeply to keep from vomiting.  The pork had been intended as a welcome back meal for James, but the mission had taken longer than expected. Evie tried to recall, but the only recent meal she could come up with had been lunch with Darcy the day after James left. That had been more than two days ago. She’d had tea and hot chocolate since then, and a package of peanut butter-filled crackers between appointments on Tuesday, but she knew she hadn’t had anything but water and coffee on Wednesday before the Avengers flew back. 

_How did it get so bad_?  She knew her body had suffered, had known she was neglecting it, but the constant struggle to control her own mind had taken priority.  Spending a day using the ability to focus on more than one train of thought at a time to her advantage had eased the blinders of fear. It was obvious, in hindsight, that more than her sanity had been damaged.

_Physician, heal thyself,_ she thought with disgust.

Evie stood, and had to lean against the counter when a wave of dizziness hit her. She clawed at the cabinet  by her knees. Inside was a bag of potatoes that were beginning to sprout and dry pasta. The one above it had rice, canned goods, and a box of crackers. She tore into it and barely managed to stop herself from shoving a handful into her mouth. Carefully, she ate one, then another. She finished a glass of water and eight of the buttery crisps before Friday interrupted.

“Dr. Vivas, Sergeant Barnes is at your door requesting entry. Shall I let him in?”

“One second, Friday.” Evie stood up straight, brushing the crumbs off her borrowed shirt and breathing deeply to make sure she wouldn’t get faint or sick. She had only just realized the condition she had pushed her body to, she didn’t need to advertise her own stupidity. “Okay, go ahead, please. Thank you.” She grabbed the potatoes and set them on the counter and was looking for a saute pan when she heard the door open and close. 

“What do you think about a breakfast hash? I saw you had some canned corned beef. If you go get that we can add sunny-side eggs and I have a jicama. With that and the potatoes that are still good-” She turned to face him, still not having located the pan, and found he had managed to get into her personal space without alerting her. He didn’t touch her, but his eyebrows were drawn tight. His gaze flicked to the still open box of crackers and empty water glass, then back to her. He brushed a few crumbs off of the counter. _Busted._

“You okay?”

“I...I’m really hungry,” she admitted – but didn’t elaborate. “And I can’t find my frying pan. I’m pretty sure the place came with one.”

He was still for a moment, just looking at her. Evie wavered between confessing that she had unintentionally starved herself and pushing him away. Then his metal arm slipped around her ribs.  He spun her slowly, turning and taking a small step that forced her backward.  She sucked in a breath. So close to him, the air smelled like toothpaste and  sandalwood and antiseptic ointment. 

“Your knee-” she began.

“Fine for now,” he answered, then lifted her up onto the counter. Evie looked down at his face. Dark stubble was thick on his jaw and chin, covering up his dimple. Silky brown hair fell in waves against his cheekbones. Full, sinfully red lips parted in a small smile. “I believe I owe you my kitchen services.” He stepped away, and she was bereft from the loss of body heat.

“Now, I am fairly incompetent with cooking.” He seized the cracker box and popped one into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before handing it to her. He didn’t suggest she eat any, but he made it seem perfectly normal to snack in the middle of the night while preparing a full meal. Evie bit through her ninth cracker and relaxed a bit, watching him dig a reusable grocery bag out of the neat pile under her sink then rummage near the stove for a pan. “However, the Army did teach me the important survival skill of peeling potatoes. You okay with packing this up and going back to my place?” He held up the only saute pan she had with a disappointed look. “I’ve got something bigger you can use.” He frowned then, his neck flushing a bit under his hair.

“Mmm,” she managed to keep a straight face, but only just. “Think you could oil it up for me?”

“I...” He took a deep breath and set down the pan. “You re flirting with me, right? I’m not just imagining this?”

Evelyn almost dropped her crackers in surprise. “Are you kidding?  You’ve been flirting with  me .  You’re the one who started correcting my yoga form and seeing me to my door.” She thrust an index finger toward his chest accusingly. “You pulled out my chair.”

“That was... _mozhet byt', moi instinkty zazharilis' vmeste s moim obayaniyem_. Fuck,” he finished sharply, then pushed away from the counter behind him until he was standing between her knees, one  cool hand hovering above her thigh, the other nearly touching her back. She could feel the heat of his body even through the inches that separated them. “Is this all right?”

“Yes,” she breathed. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to look at his eyes or mouth.

“Do not let me hurt you,” he whispered. She had only a moment to recognize the words she had spoken to him earlier, and then his mouth was on hers. 

His lips were as soft as they looked and a little slick from the butter crackers.  His right hand pressed between her shoulder blades, hot and firm and tipping her into him. He increased the slant, working her lower lip with soft sucks and kisses and a quick lick of his tongue that was over too fast and made him let out a sound that was vaguely familiar. His left hand gently kneaded the muscle of her thigh and Evie gasped into his mouth, parting her lips and rushing forward to deepen the kiss only to find him pulling away.

“Are you okay?”

She opened her eyes and met his concerned gaze. Guilt made his jaw tight. He held his metal hand out and away from their bodies, but kept his right on her back – fingertips pressing lightly against her spine through his shirt. Evie was wildly cognizant of her lack of bra. 

“You moan just like that when you eat dessert.”

Blue-gray  irises thinned to a narrow ring around pupils dilated by  oxytocin, norepinephrine, and dopamine. The sight made blood rush south, leaving her pleasantly light-headed.

“Evelyn,” he responded in a deep voice she could feel in her chest, “eat your damn crackers.”

 

_ _*mozhet byt', moi instinkty zazharilis' vmeste s moim obayaniyem – maybe my instincts got fried with my charm_ _


	22. Bonus Chapter: She's Just Not That Into Tentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You readers are just too much. Seriously, I really did intend to stop Awake at that kiss, but you have all been so enthusiastic and generous with your comments. So this happened.

**August 25, 2017**

 

“Tell me.”

“Why should I?”

“Hm. Because I am the best partner you have ever had, will ever have, and could ever have.”

“You are sounding particularly self-assured today.” Natasha sipped her water and tried very hard not to turn her head. Dr. Hoke had assured her that the portion of her skull that had been removed to reduce pressure would be replaced the next day – but there was something about knowing only nylon mesh was holding her brain in her head that made her cautious of sudden movements.

Clint set her water back on the bed table and flopped into the guest chair. “Hey – I’m the only senior team member who is currently cleared for active duty. That means I am in charge. I can be as self-assured as I want. You don’t like it? Stop putting your head between Wilson and the bad guys.”

“If you are in charge, you are the one who owes Darcy the mission reports.”

“Ah, but that just means I have to badger the rest of you to get them. Which will be easy, because except Vision you are all restricted to home, the Facility, or the Tower – respectively. And Vision always turns his briefs in on time. With footnotes.” Clint played with his phone but did not toss it in the air. He knew how much that annoyed her. It indicated how worried he had been that he didn’t annoy her for the sheer principle of it.

“If I tell you...” Natasha raised on eyebrow when Clint dropped his feet to the floor and sat forward eagerly. Then regretted it. The motion made her _hair_ hurt. And Clint’s boots were too large to be anything less than obnoxiously loud against the wood in her medical suite.

“If I tell you,” she began again, “you will draft my report for me. And spell check it. And rake the beach at Jane Foster’s house. She cut her foot earlier this week on a piece of glass.”

“Fine,” he agreed easily. Nat suspected he already had someone to pawn the raking job off on.

“And you will discuss with Vision his feelings for Wanda until he understands them.”

“Nope.” Clint slouched back in his chair and scowled. “Not worth it.”

“This is high quality gossip, Clinton.” He didn’t react, but dug into the backpack by his chair and pulled out a crossword puzzle book and pen. _He is feeling self-assured._ She was going to have to sweeten the pot. “He let her drug him.”

Clint’s eyes met hers, but he resolutely firmed his jaw and turned back to his book.

“Different strokes for different folks I guess.”

“I know what time they left his apartment. And what they were wearing.” Natasha paused, waiting to see if she would have to release her final teaser. “And her exact words to describe his...endurance.”

He lowered the crosswords. “As soon as you are cleared, you have to go on a field trip with me. No questions asked.”

“Done.” That was a paltry acquiescence. Clint’s field trips usually included snacks and detours to run-down video arcades. And scaring the shit out of people. He always said they deserved it, and Natasha trusted Clint to accurately judge the moral fiber of targets. Violence without any residual guilt was a heady experience.

“And you will make Wilson stop with the whistling. Chicken and cheese I hate the fudging whistling.”

“Fudging?”

“Day two of sixth grade and Coop was sent to the principal’s office for cursing. I took responsibility.”

“Laura taught those kids more English swear words before their fifth birthdays than I know now.”

“Yeah, but this is better. I get to make up stupid filler words – and she knows she owes me, but can’t admit it.”

“Sly.”

“I was fairly proud of it.”

“I can halt the whistling in your known presence, but no more than that.”

“I accept your terms. Now spill.”

“She was working in medical when we got back,” Nat began.

Forty minutes later she was ready for her next dose of morphine and Clint had moved to sit on the foot of her bed, rubbing the instep on her unbroken foot as she talked. His eyes were wide and his lips bitten pink with anticipation. Natasha finished up, “He was five hours late to the office. Darcy was working late on the interagency intelligence parity agreement so Steve tried to get him to eat dinner together in the restaurant on the third floor.”

“What did Barnes say?”

Nat paused for effect, hitting her med button and waiting for the sweet relief of narcotics. “He said he had ‘somebody waiting at home’.”

“What?” Clint’s jaw dropped open, then he laughed. “What!”

“Yes. And now you owe me twenty dollars.” She relaxed back against the pillows.

“You can collect from Laura. She bet me the same that he wouldn’t make a move until September.”

“Let her know she owes me, then.”

“No problem.” Clint tucked Nat’s feet back under the sheet. He smoothed the blanket down and stood up, adjusting her tray so that she could easily reach the water without moving her head. It was thoughtful and done without comment, like every stupid, brave thing Clint had done for her since the day they met.

“Don’t make me regret semi-retirement, Natasha,” he continued softly. “You’re worth too much to me, to my family, to take risks.”

Her eyes were heavy. Her head light. It was an amazing, wonderful thing to know you were safe enough to let your guard down completely. To know that there was one person, more than one person – two handfuls of strong, selfless people, who would give their lives to protect her while she was vulnerable. Humbling, but also achingly beautiful. Her eyes were hot and full behind her lids but she did not cry. The combination of drugs and head injury may have caused an involuntary moisture reflex. But she did not cry. She closed her eyes and tried to remind herself to have Friday check the humidity levels in the infirmary. There was moisture on her face.

Chapped lips pressed carefully against her temple. “If anything ever happened to you,” Clint whispered, then paused. His voice was low and rough and so familiar it was a part of her body. An organ that she hadn’t been born with but could no longer live without. “Can I have your car?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Natasha have been done a million times - and at least two thirds of those as a couple. But their interactions in the MCU (and in my own head) just read siblings to me. Like fraternal twins separated at birth and willing to die for each other. They constantly complain about the other's little quirks, but would cut the first outsider to mention the same.


End file.
